Threshold Fever
by SecondLieutenant
Summary: It took a week's worth of nightmares to make Kuroko realize that one thing held her entire world together. It took the loss of that one simple thing to make Kuroko realize that her world could crumble asunder in little time... and with little warning. Enfeebled, Kuroko is forced to abandon her most intimate passions, and her dependence upon Misaka grows all the more dire.
1. Chapter 1

**Threshold Fever**

* * *

The one thing Kuroko never expected out of a run-of-the-mill chase was a trap, especially from a random hooligan acting aloof on the street. In hindsight, "hooligan" might not have been the appropriate means of describing such a foolishly dressed crook. He was no random hooligan if he was wise enough to corner Judgment's own teleporter Kuroko Shirai and computer-wiz Kazari Uiharu. Such applied especially to the latter, whose voice rang behind the earpiece glued to the former's head.

 _"Take a right down that alley, Shirai! I'm sorry, but that's the farthest I can see. Beyond that there're at least a dozen blind spots, so you're going to be on your own."_

Focusing on the message delivered by her voice made it difficult for Kuroko to concentrate on traversing her terrain, but, nonetheless, she remained headstrong and managed to sprint as she hesitated for an answer.

"Got it, but there's no need to worry. I've done this a million times, and I can do it a million times more."

 _"As expected. Be careful."_

"Roger."

She took a swift turn down the designated corner and delved into the world that was hidden from the sun: a land of gray, filth, and uncertainty, but little did it daunt one who had emerged from alien status. What made her pause was how it led to a shallow dead end with a missing criminal. Face scrunching, Kuroko treaded carefully inside at a mild pace, eyes attentive and prepared. Her teeth ground against her fragile lip upon arriving where the road ended. She softly kicked a stray trash bag. No human was hiding in there unless their body felt like loose garbage.

"I have a problem, Uiharu: the alley leads to an end, and the target's nowhere in sight," she grumbled beneath her breath. "We might have an esper on our hands. Maybe a physics-canceler?"

 _"It's possible. If he is, he could've easily used his power to run up the walls and throw us off his trail."_

"Blast. I'll give the skies a look as soon as-" She yelled when a line of pain erupted behind her head. It was not enough to to put her out of service, but it was certainly enough to send her stumbling. She rolled on the ground to set herself back on her feet, turning around in the process. Behind her stood the once-missing crook. He bore a smile as he rhythmically beat a metal bar across his open palm.

"Nowhere to run now, Miss Judgment," he taunted. There was much to process: the man, the pain in her head, the fear of being unable to teleport, countermeasures if she could not teleport, and Uiharu's exasperated tone.

 _"Shirai!"_ she exclaimed. _"What's wrong? What's happening?"_ There was little time for Kuroko to answer, as there were far more pressing matters longing for her attention. She coped with the repetitive stinging that erupted in the site of the blow by tensing her muscles to flaunt her armband.

"As I've said before, sir..." she growled to the man. "I am Kuroko Shirai of Judgment, and I'm here to arrest you for-" The man interrupted her by taking another swing, but she had sharp enough reflexes to avoid it with a weary sidestep. The man showed no signs of cooperation whatsoever, she realized, so she concluded that a bout of conflict was the only resolution to their encounter. She rushed forward with a short burst of energy and swung her leg out in hopes of sweeping him off his feet. He was awfully sturdy, she realized with fear, and rushed to calculate dodging an imminent counterattack.

Her first impulse was to teleport behind him, but when she tried to concentrate, all she could feel was the enraged wound that refused to leave her alone. Horror took her captive, especially as her eyes darted upwards to witness the man winding his arms into the air. With his metal bar, his hands came crashing down toward her.

As if time slowed, Kuroko was given time to think.

 _"Come on, Kuroko. Just this once! Forget about the pain and concentrate! Concentrate! Concentrate!"_ Her heart fluttered at the all-familiar pitch that followed the use of her power, but also grew troubled at the sound of a heavy blow against something soft. She was teleporting, but not fast enough; her foe registered an additional, and lucky, strike to her head right before she disappeared.

Hers was a poor turn of events, as she feared the trauma would throw her calculations askew. What was once a fear turned into reality, for within the moment of a blinking of an eye, she was away from the fray, but somewhere far worse. She became enveloped in darkness and a material that constricted every part of her body. She could not struggle to get free, just as she could not plea for her lungs to breathe.

 _"Please tell me you're all right! Answer me, Shirai!"_ Uiharu pleaded through her ear. Kuroko's eyes widened, and her heart panicked when she realized the pocket that held her captive was not large enough to allow her to open her mouth.

 _"The ground! I teleported into the ground, Uiharu! I can't speak, and there's no room for me to breathe!"_ Teleporting was out of the question.

No teleporting.

No help.

No breath.

Kuroko was doomed to the fate of remaining still, silently accepting her fate of being claimed by the fearsome powers of suffocation.

But it felt like when her lung hurt the most, she could finally gasp and release. She did not hesitate to free her well-needed breath as a bellow, a bellow that followed her eyes as they shot open. Her stomach curled. Sitting up, she began panting, feeling sweat as it dripped down her face. One river in particular dribbled down the bridge of her nose and took the plunge off its tip, a sensation she used to calm herself until her shivering died.

Calm. Calm was all she felt soon, for her fearful eyes finally decided to dart around to observe their surroundings. Glossy wood politely greeted her, as did the manila shade of the comforter shielding both herself and the bed. A delightful ray of sunlight spilled into the room despite the protests of thin-threaded curtains. Subtle chirps of birds and the distant scent of freshly-ground coffee tattled of morning.

Morning. It was just morning, she realized with relief. With a hand still quivering, she took her forehead captive, mopped away sopping bangs, and rested her head with a sigh. Despite any lingering sensations of terror, she felt a soft smile tug at the corner of her lips. The most she could do was lightly resist.

"Must've been a pretty rough nightmare," sounded a voice. It was not Uiharu's as it had just been. Instead, it was a voice that was far more pleasing to Kuroko's ears. A voice that caused wings to sprout from her shoulder blades as she ascended into sweet-smelling clouds. A voice that had her eyes glisten as she turned to meet the source: the spotless face of Mikoto Misaka, her roommate that was strewn across her own bed on the opposite side the room. Shoulders relaxing, Kuroko gardened a warm smile.

"Nightmares? Me? I don't get nightmares," she lied effortlessly, brushing a strand of hair over her shoulders to its rightful place.

"Are you sure? That's what you've been saying the past five nights."

If Kuroko corrected her, Misaka would have known that the matter was under intense scrutiny. If the matter was under intense scrutiny, that meant something was dreadfully wrong. The reason it was wrong was because, as Kuroko herself claimed, she did not get nightmares... At least, not until the past _six_ (not five) nights.

And there was no clear reason why.


	2. Chapter 2

Kuroko clocked into the office while covering a yawn with a palm. The other hand fluidly threw her bag into the swivel chair parked in front of her cluttered desk. When she saw Uiharu, who was occupied with the giant printer standing against the wall, she cleared her throat and sighed.

"Sorry for being late."

Uiharu glanced at her for only a moment before returning to monitoring the papers.

"No worries. I've been so caught up in trying to get this stupid machine to work I hardly noticed." She groaned when the printer stopped prematurely. "I'll keep quiet when Konori comes around if you lend me a hand..."

The dreaded printer was the machine one could argue was older than both of them. Kuroko had grown accustomed to its rebellious nature before Uiharu; it was a situation that would be considered backwards, as Uiharu seemed to always know the answer when it came to anything technological.

Neutrally, Kuroko made her way to the girl and her opponent, where she proceeded to pry the top open so she could get a decent look at its guts. All that laid underneath was a jargon of parts overlapping and laying across one another, but her trained eyes successfully diagnosed the problem.

"Oh. I see what's wrong," she started while reaching inside. Uiharu curiously peeked over her coworker's shoulder as her petite hands steadily wove through the network of wires and cylinders, prepared to reach or grab. "There's just something jammed in here."

"Can you reach it?" Uiharu inquired. All Kuroko had to do was touch it, as it would grant her the ability to teleport it to a place where it was less burdensome.

"Barely." Kuroko was nearly shoulder deep in the machine's organs, grasping for her prize, when it suddenly spurt an awkward noise. The two paused to stare at it with a frown, especially when the machine stated that it was prepared to continue printing. Mildly panicked, Kuroko attempted to yank her arm back to safety, but, to her misfortune, she was not fast enough. Two pieces of the machine clamped her wrist into place, and, like a bloodthirsty hound, would not release her. She groaned after several vain attempts to free herself. "Gah! Quick, Uiharu, turn it off! Turn it off!"

Also panicked, Uiharu turned to the printer and proceeded to violate its power button not once, not twice, but somewhere around the thirties. No matter how many times she insisted for it to halt, the printer responded with a pair of angry beeps before disobediently continuing to print. Nothing of such nature was going to allow Uiharu to reach her goal, so she sprinted along the wall to find where the extension cord met an electric outlet. Upon arrival, she immediately yanked its prongs out of the socket.

At last, the printer died, granting Kuroko freedom. With a painful hiss, the girl observed her previously captive wrist, where she took notice of a thick red band and a shallow patch of skin that had been stripped away. Uiharu, when she rushed to her side, took notice as well and chewed on her lip.

"Uh oh..." appeared to be the most that could spill from the lips she previously chewed.

"I've had a lot worse happen out on the field," Kuroko sighed nonchalantly while running the very tip of her finger over the injured patch of her skin. "Except I can't just neglect this little part here..."

"Go sit down and I'll grab the first-aid kit."

They knew the situation was not dire enough to require Uiharu to rush, nor did it require Kuroko to plop down in a chair as if the injury had been critical. The look in her dulling eyes seemed critical, however, as they were steadily growing glassy. They wandered to the ceiling, where they stared directly into the light with little regard to the consequences. She became enveloped in a trance, a dreadfully consuming trance that distracted her, even when Uiharu appeared at her side.

"Today's already off to an interesting start," Kuroko commented, seemingly apathetic. Uiharu saw through whatever facade she was trying to construct, but she neglected to verbally acknowledge it. Instead, she engrossed herself with digging out needed supplies from the kit she delivered to a nearby desk.

"That just means it'll keep getting even more interesting." When Kuroko offered it, Uiharu gently took her hand and proceeded to clean it with a solution-soaked cotton ball.

It became oddly quiet, but it was not a mysterious sort of quiet. Both had a good idea why.

Kuroko flinched when the solution seeped into the deepest part of her wound, but it was luckily the last to be treated. A quaint adhesive bandage protected it from anything that meant further harm, but it was not the last of the ordeal. Kuroko knew the question was locked and loaded when Uiharu lifted her head to gaze at her in the eyes.

"You could've easily teleported to get your hand out of there," Uiharu stated softly. "Your powers still aren't working, huh?"

With a reddening face, Kuroko tried to avoid her eyes.

"...No."

"This makes the sixth day in a row."

"I know."

"Did you have another nightmare last night?" Uiharu paused to allow Kuroko to nod. "Figures. What happened this time?"

Nervous, Kuroko gently ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. She glanced at her coworker for only a moment before averting her eyes a second time.

"I accidentally teleported into the ground. I was being smothered and couldn't get out."

Uiharu frowned.

"That's a pretry reasonable fear for a beginner, but for someone like you... Shirai, you teleport yourself all the time. Where's this doubt coming from?"

"If I knew, I'd fix it. But I..." She froze. "I just don't. And it's only getting worse."

"You need to talk to an expert about this. Surely there're counselors available at Tokiwadai, right?"

The school counselor, contrary to what she had hoped, did not seem to help either.

Kuroko sacrificed class time to pay a visit to the counselor's office the following Tuesday. It took time to find such a place after several interrogations for directions from multiple people who did not know what they were talking about, but the fact that she emerged successful was enough to keep her from frustration. Timidly easing the door open to peek inside was the most of her fears, but they were for naught. Inside, she was met with the sight of a humble room with a seemingly humble woman. Said woman turned around in her swivel chair to greet her.

"Miss Kuroko Shirai for the appointment at noon?" asked the woman.

"Yes ma'am."

"Welcome. Come have a seat."

The counselor reeked with professionalism, for she started the session by asking many questions and jotting down each answer on a sheet of paper.

"Have you been sick recently? Are you getting at least eight hours of sleep every night? Are you eating normally? Have you had an emotional event with a friend or family member recently? Do you have plenty of energy? Do you take naps in the middle of the day? How are your grades in class?"

According to Kuroko's responses, she was perfectly normal. Luckily, that did not mark the end of the session. Upon finishing the necessities, the counselor removed the sheet of paper from her clipboard and set it aside. Prepared was a fresh sheet, begging to be tattooed.

"Well then, Miss Shirai," she began, "I don't know how to diagnose you just yet, so why don't you tell me what's wrong in detail? All that I've been told ahead of time is that you're having difficulties activating your esper abilities."

So Kuroko told her.

"I think it has something to do with the chain of dreams I've had for the past week."

"When did it start?"

"Last Monday. I haven't had any problems teleporting for years, but I've begun having dreams where something goes wrong during the teleportation process. First I was just missing targets during a physical, and the same thing happened the next night, except I was on duty in that dream. The dreams're... They're getting more and more morbid."

The fascinated woman furiously took notes. Once finished, she eyed her patient.

"What's your definition of morbid?"

"Dangerous. It's gotten to the point where I die from sort of mistake." She looked up with anxiousness building in her expression. "Mistakes I rarely make, I should add. Mistakes like making bad calculations and teleporting underneath a crumbling building or not getting away from a weapon in time. Like I said, I've been confident in my abilities for years, but the dreams are so vivid... It almost feels like they're real. I took a break from my powers for one day, and after that I couldn't activate them."

Whatever it was, it was not normal, for the counselor had never heard of such a case in her entire career, especially for an esteemed Level Four. Kuroko was given few instructions to remedy her dilemma, the majority being resting. The problem was that resting was the last thing she wanted to do, as it would surely trigger unwanted visions in her slumber.

Nonetheless, Kuroko did as she was told, so she glued herself to the bed upon returning to the dormitory... Which was a bad thing, for she fell asleep almost immediately on accident.

The first to take notice was Misaka, who departed from the washroom, fresh from a bath and dressed in her Gekota-adorned sleepwear. She spied upon Kuroko, who had yet to shed her uniform, fast asleep... On _her_ bed. The sight gifted Misaka with an unpleasant frown that arched deeper as she drew closer to her seized territory, thinking of ways to reclaim it. She balled up the towel she once used to wipe her face, prepared to make it a projectile that would home straight for the enemy's base.

But she paused when she got a closer look.

A sweat-drenched brow sat above the troubled expression of her intended target, and she failed to rouse when she drew near. With relaxing arms, Misaka felt her face melt; where once there was irritation, there came pity. The pity lowered her to her knees, where she became eye-level with her bed's intruder.

Seldom had she seen such a troubled expression on the face of her friend. The sight alone set her at unease, so she made haste to correct it. With a gentle hand, she reached toward the girl, placing a hand upon her shoulder. She flinched at the feeling of tense muscle, which she grabbed to give a good shake.

"Kuroko..." she whispered. "Wake up please."

It took doing, but Kuroko's eyes did eventually open, just not peacefully. They snapped open wide and were accompanied by a dreadful gasp for air. She winced as she coiled away from Misaka's touch. Time allowed her to collect herself, for whatever fear had taken her captive released her to the custody of a smile, which she directed to her audience.

"Oh hi, Sissy. Do you need something?"

"Yeah. I need you off my bed."

Kuroko paused, lifted her head, and gave the room a brief scan. For a moment, Misaka could have sworn, it appeared that Kuroko did not even know where she was. Kuroko quickly released a nervous laugh and hurriedly turned back to her.

"Oh... Sorry about that. I came in the dorm while you were in the washroom. That must've been when I caught wind of an intoxicating scent on your bed..." She grunted when a fist clashed with the side of her skull. A growl escaped Misaka's teeth while she sent hands to nurse the wound.

"That was uncalled for."

"Ow..." Kuroko mewled pitifully. When her eyes opened again, she was met with the sincere glare that was in Misaka's eyes; for just a moment, the two were locked in a long stare down. Whatever anger Misaka had did not last long, Kuroko noticed. She did not know whether to be happy about it because of what stood as its replacement.

"Have you been feeling okay lately?"

Kuroko reddened, blinked a few times, and struggled to maintain eye contact. She feigned a grin wide enough to pass her definition of convincing. She and Misaka clearly had differing opinions on the word convincing.

"Of course I have," she replied.

"Really? All these nightmares you've been having tell a different story," Misaka replied bluntly while running a finger over Kuroko's soaking forehead. "You _do_ realize you're drenched in sweat, right?"

The feeling of being caught. Kuroko took no liking to it. She was the one who was supposed to be catching people, being a Judgment officer; hers was a table never meant to be turned, not even by her beloved Misaka.

"Ha ha, you got me there..." she tsk'ed. "The semester exams're tying my stomach into knots. How about you?"

"Since when does an honor student like you worry about her grades?"

"Since now. I've been having difficulties in my science classes."

"Right..." Misaka still did not sound convinced, but she did seem to give up on trying to pry the girl open. With a sigh, she plopped on the edge of her bed and proceeded to run a brush through her thin auburn locks. The subject was left to rot, but a faint piece lasted long enough to leave Misaka's lips. "Kuroko, I want you to know that I'm here if you need to talk about anything."

"Great, because I _do_ need something from you!" Kuroko bolted up and drew frighteningly near the girl, eyes large with longing. "Can I sleep in your bed tonight? Please? In case I have another nightmare?"

Misaka sounded with a distasteful groan.

"Leave it to you to use this as an excuse to sleep with me," she grumbled. Her feet spread across the floor when she rose from the bed to set her brush on the coffee table in the middle of the room. She then reached for the large stuffed bear that sat against the wall, presented it, and gave Kuroko a cold glare. "Since you aren't feeling well, I'll let you this once." She continued speaking when Kuroko bEgan to squeal. "Up up up! But there's a catch! Kill Bear's going to be our wall. If you cross him, I'm going to fry you. Got it?"

Needless to say, Kuroko did not have any nightmares that night, but it was not because she took a vacation to the shores of bliss. Instead, she was kept from having a nightmare because she woke up alost every other hour when a tingling sensation erupted in her arm. When she awoke, she realized that she had strewn her arm and legs over Kill Bear in attempt to grapple for her partner. She turned herself the opposite direction in hopes that she would not do it again as she slumbered, but only a fool would truly believe such a measly attempt cold remedy the problem.

It was a near-sleepless night for both of them, and it showed the next morning. Misaka awoke with a steep frown and an unsoundly groan. Her eyes, bordered by thick black lines, slid to her side. Bathing in the morning light was Kuroko, who was strewn across the bed, inhaling deep snores. As Misaka brought herself up to sit, Kuroko's hand slid limply off her arm.

"This is probably the last time I'm letting you sleep in my bed," Misaka growled... At least that was what she believed before her gaze landed on the slumbering face of her friend. It had been more than a week since she last witnessed her sleeping so soundly. What was once commonplace became a privilege, a privilege that melted her stiff expression as she anxiously nibbled on her lower lip. "But... it _has_ been a while since you've looked this content. There's always room for a second chance."

Her voice, gentle as could be, was somehow loud enough to wake the subject matter. Eyelids slowly eased ajar to unveil caramel irises. They tiredly gazed at her.

"...Hm?"

Misaka only mustered a tame smile.

"Nothing," she said, reaching for her friend's face. The tips of her delicate fingers grazed across a dry forehead, brushing aside strands of messy bangs. Kuroko must have thought the action was part of a sweet dream, otherwise she would not have been recaptured by sleep so easily.


	3. Chapter 3

It was week three, and Kuroko was growing deathly frightened. Thanks to Misaka's hospitality, which welcomed visitation to her bed, nightmares were postponed. However, it did little to combat her case of inability. Kuroko still could not teleport. Not herself nor anything upon which she laid a hand.

A somber expression painted across her face as she stood in the midst of the track field, gazing down a sandy road. Tick marks decorated the sand, marking measurements. Coaches surrounded a circle sketched in the ground at the opposite end of the field, armed with tape measures and stopwatches. Despite their distance, they all gazed at her with anticipation.

But she could not do much to appease their longings, for her eyes dulled to the point of hopelessness. She could only be pulled out of the void when a coach approached her from behind and rested a hand on her petite shoulder.

"Give it one last try, Miss Shirai."

The coach hoped for a lost cause. Kuroko knew that much before she even mustered what determination had not been washed away by the tide of disappointment. She set a palm on the weight standing at her side, mind steering away from the world surrounding her in exchange for additional focus on her target. As usual, she envisioned it disappearing.

Travel approximately sixty meters.

Land precisely where the circle was marked, just as she saw it.

No matter how hard she concentrated, however, nothing came of her efforts. The weight stayed as it was, and it would not move no matter how much she wished of it. Such wishes extended to the point of replicating the sensation of a hammer pounding against her skull. The pain continued until her lapse of concentration ceased with a gasp for breath, and her muscles screamed in agony. She was forced to buckle, but out of frustration, she caught herself. Her mouth, once gaping, sealed into a prison with the clamping of her teeth.

The coach rushed to her side and allowed her to lean onto him for support

"Don't push yourself too hard," he warned.

"If I don't, there's no way I'll be able to reimburse what I've lost," she muttered between breaths. "If I've lost progress in my abilities during all this time of inactivity, I need to make up for it the soonest I can."

"That isn't absolute," the man argued. With a turn of the head, he disappointingly motioned for his fellow coaches to abandon their post at the ring. "Something's wrong with you, and it's not going to count against your personal integrity. We're going to keep investigating until we get to the bottom of this. Until then, I'm be filing a report on today's exercise."

The tragedy of defeat swept over Kuroko's face, and she forced herself onto her feet with the assistance of a crutch, which would be her coach. She stumbled briefly, but only briefly. She caught her balance after taking a final deep breath. A momentary scan around the field promised that her failure had no audience, which bettered her mood slightly.

Shame took her captive; she wished not for any to know her dirty little secret, not even Misaka. Especially not Misaka. Such was the very reason Kuroko went to the office to confide in Uiharu, the only person who was aware of the issue besides Konori, to keep the matter confidential. Sincerely, Uiharu looked her in the eyes and frowned.

"If this goes on long enough, Misaka will eventually find out, Shirai. You can't keep it a secret forever."

"I want it to be as long as I can make it. Sissy doesn't need to worry for me... I don't want her to. If she's worried for me, then she'd always feel like she has to take care of me, and if she feels like she has to take care of me, she'll never have the trust to rely on me in the future." She sighed. "Assuming I'll be worth relying on in the future..."

"Talking like that certainly doesn't help. If you want your powers to come back, at least act like they will. It's better than throwing a pity party for yourself," Uiharu corrected strictly while rising from her desk. She sounded with a groan as she stretched and took care to disconnect her many computers. "As a matter of fact, whether you have your powers or not, I still find you trustworthy. There's been an increase in crime in my neighborhood lately, so can you walk me back home?"

Kuroko's jaw did not bother rising from her fist.

"You don't have to try to make me feel better."

"That's not the reason I asked! I'm serious! A neighbor had a home invasion a few days ago and I'm still a little weary."

If Uiharu was acting, she was a good actor, but Kuroko never knew Uiharu to be an actor. There was no better way to consider her words besides remnants of the truth. Kuroko's morality refused to let her decline Uiharu's plea, which led her to her feet as she took her book bag into her hands.

"Fine. Let's go..."

They took the time to close the office before departing into the dark streets of the night. The darkness demanded that they walked quickly, as Kuroko had a pressing curfew crawling along the arms of the clock. The clock stopped for nobody, not even them, as did the imminent danger that lurked within the shadows of nearby alleyways. The dangers thought better than attacking a pair; had they been separated and alone, they might have been less lucky. It was an event-less venture, but not to their dismay. Arriving at Uiharu's house unharmed was the most they could ask from an insane city of the future, and it was exactly what they were delivered. After holding a brief exchange of good nights, Kuroko went her own way.

Long had it been since she had last been so pressured to get home in time. Ever since she learned to teleport herself, transportation was a simplicity that made her one of Judgment's greatest assets. Now, on a night with no promises, Kuroko was deduced to sprinting down street after street, cautious to follow along the path that teemed with fellow pedestrians.

Her arrival to Tokiwadai was greeted with the dorm matron, who stood at the lobby with both arms crossed and a tapping foot. Kuroko reddened almost instantly, but she was more than prepared to use her work as an excuse for her tardiness. It got her off the hook after a few solid minutes of bargaining. Victorious, she rushed past the matron and homed straight for her dorm. An eagerness to greet Misaka swelled within her pounding bosom. After all, she was sure that Misaka, her beloved, would replenish her long deteriorated cheer.

Except the moment she entered the dorm, she was met with a heart-stopping sight.

The second Kuroko threw open the door, Misaka emerged from the washroom, fresh in a lovely blouse and skirt. Light, unnatural blush brought her eyes, exemplified by a humble degree of black eyeliner, into focus. Her lips, altered to a quaint shade of salmon, dropped upon witnessing the entering of her roommate.

Having whitened, Kuroko gasped.

"Sissy!" she exclaimed in a confusing concoction of joy and shock. "Do my eyes betray me or have you bedizened yourself to commemorate my return?"

Puzzled, Misaka frowned and continued with her business, which led her to a shelf on her side of the room to retrieve a necklace resting within a quaint, nearly unnoticed, music box.

"Of course not."

"Then why, I must ask! Why have you decked yourself in such a gaudy outfit?" Her heart stopped when she witnessed as a blanket of red slowly spread across Misaka's face, a type of red she had seen before. The mere sight sent horror sweeping over her head to wash her into an inescapable abyss. "D-Don't tell me... Are you preparing yourself for a _date_?"

Misaka's eyes shyly darted to the girl, and she shook her head to furiously cover any embarrassment.

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea, Kuroko, but I..."

"You what?"

"I made a bet with someone and I lost, so I'm treating them to dinner."

As if glass had shattered in the distance, Kuroko paled further until her jaw flimsily dropped.

"A date! I knew it was a date!" her exasperated tone exclaimed. "I should've known I wasn't doing a good enough job capturing your favors. Who? Who is this shadowy figure that has taken my rightful place as your suitor?"

"I just told you it's nothing like that!" Misaka snapped in return. Young blue sparks danced along the contour of her forehead. The fact that she was getting so terribly defensive over the matter hurled Kuroko into a state of immense unease. "I'm only staying true to my end of the deal I made with him. That's all."

Kuroko gasped in horror when the image of a certain spiky-haired boy washed along the banks of her memory. The thought was like a whale, pitifully heavy and impossible to return to the merciless sea from which it hailed. Nonetheless, she dreamed of happy possibilities, such as regaining her powers for the sole purpose of teleporting it out of her business.

 _"Him?"_ she echoed, exasperated. "You aren't referring to that troglodyte Touma Kamijou, are you?"

"Don't call him that! He saved your life once, don't you remember?"

The whale was doing more than just taking up space on the shore now; it had begun moaning and flopping, destroying virtually everything unlucky enough to get in its way. Only then did Kuroko truly realize there was nothing she could do with a beached whale besides wait and hope it will eventually be able to return to where it belonged. With a reddening face, which she tried to hide by turning away, she released a sigh through her nostrils.

"With your help, of course..." she corrected softly.

"My point is that you shouldn't be so quick to jump on him. He happens to be a fairly nice guy!"

Kuroko sniffled.

"Oh, the torture of listening to my Sissy speak so well of my rival in love..." She mustered the strength to halt her mutterings and deal with the problem herself. The challenge was faced head-on, and there was little intimidation in the eyes that gazed upon it. "Very well, Sissy, I won't be so judgmental of this person, but I can't simply take your word for it. If this truly isn't a date, I'm sure you wouldn't mind me tagging along for a field study."

Misaka frowned.

"Someone has to be here in case the dorm matron comes along."

"A few pillows can easily act as place holders for us. If you're looking for excuses for me not to come, Sissy, at least try to do better than that."

"I don't have enough money to pay for three meals."

"I do. I'll pay for all of them."

"You shouldn't be out in your Tokiwadai uniform past curfew."

"There happen to be other clothes in my wardrobe."

Misaka stopped. Defeat crept upon her face, once stoic with confidence. She huffed and allowed her brows to furrow. Once her head swiveled, her lips parted.

"Looks like you win, Kuroko. But if you do _anything_..." Her eyes opened slightly. It was at the perfect angle to glare at her roommate as a threatening spark played along her head. "You know how it'll go down."

The tingle that came with such a strand of electricity was barely strong enough to send a small wave through the air. It hit Kuroko's face, making her shudder with excitement.

"Of course, Sissy."

Their method of departure from the dorm was from the window. The drop was not high enough to spook them from leaping their way into freedom, and from there, their escape was child's play. Once or twice Misaka prompted to make use of Kuroko's teleportation, but once or twice Kuroko nonchalantly stated that walking would be the superior course of action (it was mainly to cover her current issues with her powers, but it doubled as an opportunity to spend more time with Misaka).

Their travels across the city were without worry. Whether she had her powers at her disposal or not, Kuroko always felt safe, for she stood in the presence of the third ranked Level Five of Academy City. Danger skewed its path from her, all except the audacious breed that stuck its head in a place it did not belong. Seldom had such a specimen posed a threat to Misaka, and for good reason.

In addition to being without worry, the air was light-hearted as well. The two had the chance to catch up. The chance to spend the quality time Kuroko so lavished in sheer bliss. The joy, the pleasure, neared the border beyond fathoming...

...And it all came to a screeching halt upon the arrival at Joseph's, where they found a young man waiting just outside the front door. Kuroko frowned at the sight. There he was: the whale in person. He seemed awfully lax for a beached whale, but, then again, in such a moment of panic it was best to remain calm. Perhaps he was too calm; unlike his arriving party, he wore a casual sort of wear that consisted of a simple T-shirt and goofy khakis. Kuroko's eyes narrowed while contrasting him with her partner.

 _"For once, the monkey's in the right. What person wears something formal to a place like this?"_ she thought to herself while turning an unnoticed eye to Misaka. _"Sissy would, I suppose..."_

Touma's smile made them feel welcome, but it slowly faded with time. He gave Misaka a studious gaze.

"Hey, Zapper..." he started awkwardly. "Um... Have you been here before?"

"Of course I have," she returned roughly. "What makes you think I haven't?"

"W-Well..." Kuroko knew that cutting Touma off would be best for his health, but she chose to remain silent. "...I'm just surprised you got all dressed up. That's all."

Merciful, Misaka turned away, making her way to the glass door that begged to be pulled ajar.

"I don't get to wear this often. It's not because I think this is special or anything..."

Kuroko remained bleak. Of course she knew Misaka's language, and she did not like what the translation of her sentence spelled.

 _"Sissy. Stop acting so coy. It's definite that you like this troglodyte and I have absolutely no idea why. The best course of action I can take at this point is making him subject to intense research, that way I can mirror whatever qualities you admire in him. After all, once I figure them out, I can copy them at least ninety times better."_ She became so dreadfully lost in her internal dialogue that she failed to notice how Touma had turned to her, smiled, and tried to make peace by offering a hand for a shake.

"And it's good to see you as well, Miss Shirai..." He looked away, which gave Kuroko plenty of time to drag herself back into reality and give his hand a studious gaze. It was the left hand he extended to her, not that accursed right hand. At least she could see he truly meant well.

"No need to act as though you're glad to see me. We're rivals competing for Sissy's favors, so there's no possible way a friendship can blossom between us."

"We are?" Touma inquired as his offer for a handshake was obliged.

"Yes. We are. And I've come with Sissy this evening to make sure you don't reach any bases that exceed mine."

An awkward silence settled between the two, but neither noticed how Misaka's face began fuming with scarlet. It was surprising that she did nothing, even when Touma slowly brought a hand to the back of his head.

"Um... I'm sorry you see it that way..."

Kuroko was not as sorry, and it did not change when the claim had time to saturate. She was sure to steal the seat next to Misaka when they chose a booth in the building. Touma never seemed to have any intentions to take it from her. Instead, he calmly took the seat across from the two and remained there throughout the duration of the dining process. As usual, when Misaka settled on her order, Kuroko chose the same thing. When Misaka became suspicious and changed her mind, Kuroko mysteriously found a hankering for changing her mind as well. There came a point where it was clear that she, utterly shameless, hid nothing, and Misaka raised the white flag.

Touma found amusement in what appeared as a show to him, so he laughed and scratched the back of his neck.

"You girls are like two peas in a pod."

A few minutes of awkward conversation eventually had them deliver their orders to a waitress, who later returned with a trio of drinks. While swirling her straw around her first round of lime soda, Misaka gifted the dining room with a scan.

"It's busy for a weeknight," she commented. It was clear, to Kuroko in the very least, that the statement was nothing more than a desperate attempt to keep the ball of dialogue rolling. When Kuroko and Touma happened to look around as well, they reached a checkpoint of agreement.

"It's how the city lives, as they say," Touma replied with a friendly tone.

Kuroko, however, did not say terribly much, for, after surveying each fellow customer, a particular man happened to catch her prejudice eye. Her neighbors, despite being so close, did not notice that she had disengaged from the conversation until an indecent amount of time later. It started when Misaka turned to her and caught the distant look in her eye. It had hardened, craving so desperately for the peace of mind it would be troubled to receive. Misaka had seen such a look enough times to know something was amiss.

"That man over there..." Kuroko started as Misaka's mouth, prepared with a question, opened. Having picked up on the thickened vibe, Touma leaned closely to hear her every word.

"Which one?" Touma did not look behind him yet, even when Kuroko's interests appeared to be over his shoulders.

"The one sitting alone beside the window," Kuroko replied, eyes narrowing. "Something's off about him."

Misaka's eyes darted to the same destination, albeit carefully. She did not seem to see nearly as much as Kuroko, as the sight did not strike her as abnormal. After all, it was just a man with a thick bush of facial hair downing a soda.

"You sure it isn't because he's wearing a turtleneck?" she asked as Touma turned to cautiously steal a glance of his own. "I remember you told me you didn't like turtlenecks last week."

"It is the turtleneck, Sissy, but I'm not uneasy just because they look absolutely atrocious on every poor soul that dares to wear one. No one wears a turtleneck in this season. Therefore, I can best conclude he's wearing it as a means to hide something."

"Now that she mentions it, she's got a point. A turtleneck isn't a popular wardrobe during spring," muttered Touma as his edgy face returned to the two. His eyes slowly slid to Kuroko. "You're a Judgment Officer, right? Can't you go do a little investigating?"

Solemnly, Kuroko shook her head.

"Not without probable cause; I can't go frisk someone just because they're wearing a hideous turtleneck."

"Then what do we do?" Misaka asked impatiently.

"Nothing. There's nothing we can do until he starts posing an obvious threat. We need to keep an eye on him until then." Perhaps Kuroko spoke too soon; the second after she finished her explanations, the man stood. Her eyes widened as he slowly reached down and sunk his fingers beneath the hem of his sweater. Without a moment to spare, she hurriedly reached over to grab hold of Misaka's head, which she shoved beneath the surface of the table. Though dismayed, Misaka did not fight against the insistence of her force, for gunfire rang through the room.

Luckily, the source of the noise, a handgun freshly ejected from hiding, was not pointing at anyone, including Misaka. The only victim was a single overhanging lamp who could no longer suspend the glass of its light bulb. The room silenced in an instant, letting only the shrieking of shards pelt the floor surrounding the turtlenecked assailant. He looked around, observing every still customer and waiter, all who had eyes glued to his menacing frame.

"This is a robbery! Nobody move!" he growled after a momentary scan. "Don't think I won't shoot anyone who doesn't obey my exact orders!"

Touma, having lowered himself behind the cover of the booth, quickly turned to the pair sitting across from him. Both had also lowered themselves to a state of equal or lesser protection.

"A gun? This guy's pretty brave bringing one of those in here with so many people! Didn't it cross his mind that someone might be an esper?" he whispered nervously, eyes widening.

"He clearly didn't give it a second thought," Misaka rumbled from the opposite side of the table with an immature spark rising from her head. "...But I'll make sure he _does_ after this."

"Hold it, Sissy!" Kuroko hissed. She finally retrieved the sash that had been buried in a pocket, and she quickly used her free hand to give her neighbor a squeeze. "This is a Judgment affair, not a civilian's. I'll handle this."

"Kuroko," Misaka retorted sharply. "Now isn't the time to start this argument."

Deep down, Kuroko knew she should have been passive, even if it were just once. With her powers hindered, she had no chance of controlling the situation. Even so, a voice, an urge, drove her to furrow her brows and look Misaka in the eye. She was Judgment, and the risk was a civil responsibility whether she liked it or not.

"Stay here, Sissy," she grumbled insistently. Whatever time had been left for Misaka to argue was stolen by Kuroko's swift hand, which reached up to the table to nab a clean, unused knife. She departed from the cover of the booth while slipping the sash onto her arm. In the openness of the room, she presented it with a thunderous tone. "Hold it."

The man turned, and he found no pleasure in meeting the familiar green and white pattern which was her brand.

"Just my damn luck..." he growled, preparing the next bullet.

"My name is Kuroko Shirai of Judgment, and I am putting you under arrest for illegal possession of a firearm and attempted robbery. If you cooperate, we won't have to make things messy."

"You think I care about making things messy?" the man raised the mouth of his gun, prepared to fire. The audience, the entire room, cowered in fear. One particular elderly woman, part of a pair in an imminent corner, began to sob. The sight frightened Kuroko greatly. However, she was not completely powerless; she had a bluff up her sleeve, and she was more than willing to see if it would prosper.

"I wouldn't be so quick to pull that trigger if I were you. I happen to be a Level Four esper: spacial movement. For the mentally deprived, that means I can teleport both myself and the things I'm touching." She confidently presented the butter knife clutched in the clamminess of her quivering hand. "Like this knife, for example, which I can put in your throat in a matter of a half-second. Which do you suppose is faster? My ability or your gun?"

A click rang from the man's throat lured her attention. A glint in her eyes told that she did not trust, nor like, the way the tone assaulted her ears.

"I'm an esper too, officer. 'Course I wouldn't be foolish enough to tell you what my ability is as you've told me."

He could have been bluffing too. Her situation looked not as bright as she originally aspired.

"The reason I told you is because I want to end this confrontation with as little mess possible. You would be surprised to see how often my notions have helped me reach my bottom line. With that said, would you like to cooperate or suffer the consequences? Though I'd never wish it, I'm willing to follow through with the latter."

A pause came.

Apparently, the pause was too long to appease an impatient Misaka, who had watched how Touma quietly departed from the booth as well. As he crawled his way to the showdown, hiding in plain sight, she began charging a bundle of sparks in the palm of her coiling hand, eager to exact her wrath. The moment she fired, time seemed to soar almost as quickly.

Every glass of liquid in the room rumbled before releasing its contents into the air. Globs of water rushed to conjoin with one another into a sphere that absorbed Misaka's attack before it could strike the perpetrator, who seized the confusion to take aim at his opponent. That very confusion was what kept Kuroko unaware of his schemes until it was too late. A bullet rushed across the room and struck her in the shoulder before she could react, drawing a yelp. She stumbled back, eyes widening with fear as her palm darted to the site of the wound. When her eyes returned to the man, she was met with the sight of the gun, prepared to fire a second, likely more lethal, shot.

Before death could be wrought upon her, though, a savior took the criminal from behind. As it would turn out, it was nothing more than a certain teenage boy with black spiked hair. He tackled the criminal, grappling for his gun in the midst of the struggle. Said struggle, so it would seem, encouraged every able pair of hands to join him in sealing the threat. Within seconds, a dog pile weighed the man into submission, and the room cheered.

Relief swept over Kuroko as she finally allowed herself to buckle to her knees, where she sought structure from a neighboring booth. Her injured arm, drenched in red from a stream that spewed from her wound, flopped limply at her side. As the blood trickled from the tips of her fingers and onto the floor, the distant noises of sirens caught her ear.

Everything was fine.

She could relax.

And yet, she could not.

The next place Kuroko found herself was on the back fender of an ambulance right outside the scene of the crime, allowing her shoulder to be mummified by a stranger. Shamefully, she kept her face hidden from a distant pair: Misaka and Touma, who were giving a detailed report to an inquiring Anti-Skill officer. The flashes of lights, red, blue, and white, amongst the night was no new sight to her, but even so, she felt overwhelmed. Her head dipped in attempt to divert her attention from anything that sickened her.

"Be careful now. Since you lost quite a bit of blood, you'll be feeling a tad lightheaded," warned her nurse upon securing the snake of gauze constricting her upper arm. She gave her a warm smile as she rose, stretched, and continued. "Just stay put right here. The boss wants to give you a check-up before we head out, so take the time to get yourself balanced."

Kuroko could not do much to recapture her steady, for the presence of the nurse was exchanged for the presence of Misaka, who had abandoned Touma and the officer. For the first time in ages, Kuroko wished Misaka away, far away from her so that she could wallow in her shame alone. On the bright side, she was given time in the silence to prepare herself, for Misaka wasted much of it to pitifully observe her freshly bandaged friend.

"Geez, Kuroko..." the girl sounded roughly while sending a hand behind her neck. It must have still been clammy from the nerve-wrecking drama that had ensued, otherwise she would not have been so quick to remove her fingers. "I... have a lot of apologizing to do, don't I? If I'd known he had some sort of water manipulating ability, I wouldn't have tried taking matters into my own hands. As a result of my impulsiveness, you got hurt. I can't imagine how devastated I would've been..." She paused to swallow a pensive gulp. "If that guy had better aim..."

The entire time, Kuroko's eyes were on the inkiness of the pavement.

"What matters is that the situation is resolved and nobody got seriously hurt," she replied calmly... At least she thought it sounded calm enough to pass as calm. Hoping it would add to her facade, she finally fixed her eyes on her visitor. "You don't need to worry about it, Sissy. All you were trying to do was help me."

"It seemed like you needed it," Misaka replied, her tone a pinch harsher. "I saw that look in your eyes, Kuroko: you were afraid. Incompetent, I'd even go so far as to say. It was as if you didn't believe a word you said to that guy." With arms crossing, she bent over. Her eyes narrowed, and Kuroko struggled to keep her face turned away the most it could without seeming blatantly obvious. To Misaka, everything Kuroko did was blatantly obvious. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

"Not at all."

"Anything at all?"

"Nope."

"Not even a reason why you didn't bother using your usual method of catching baddies? Don't say it was because you were scared, because I know you've dealt with worse." At last, she reached forth, captivated Kuroko's chin with a quartet of dainty fingers, and forced their eyes to meet. "You can't teleport, can you?"

Her answer came in the form of bitter tears that welled in her eyes. Tears she fought to contain. Misaka softened at such a sight, and she gently released her prisoner out of pity. Almost immediately, Kuroko's face returned to hiding with an occasional hand reaching up to brush away a shameful tear.

"This wasn't exactly something I wanted you to know..." she cracked in the midst of all the surrounding commotion.

"My money would've said that I'd be the first person you told," replied her partner as she took a spot on the fender as well. "Lose faith in your Sissy?"

Mortified, the girl's head perked from her shameful hang, and she quickly turned. Eyes widening, she furiously shook her head.

"Absolutely not, Sissy! Why, there's no person in this world in whom I'd rather invest more trust! I-" Her passion died when she met with a doubtful gaze. Slowly, her lips eased shut. Her shoulders, once tense, submitted to the authority of subtle domestication. "...I, um..."

"You...?"

"...I saw it as something I should handle on my own. That's all. I'll never improve myself if I let someone like you carry me all the time. Besides... you don't have to worry about it. Being Tokiwadai's Railgun is a full-time job after all."

A hand set itself on the roof of her head. A gentle hand. The same type of hand that greeted her on the first night barren of nightmares. Kuroko had grown to like that hand, an unimpressive feat, but the distraction of the hand's master was something far more displacing. A darkness gathered in the depths of Misaka's eyes. A darkness that hid itself skillfully. Perhaps too skillfully, as it almost slipped by the tirelessness of Kuroko's guard.

That darkness sent a fleeting chill down the observer's spine, one lively enough to keep her trapped in a brand new world, a place beyond the comparison of a horrific nightmare. Reality nestled itself within direness in that gaze. It flickered away in an instant.

"What do you mean by never improving yourself?" she inquired softly. The sight Kuroko had seen was enough to drive her away from a willingness to answer immediately. After a momentary silence, she dared to allow her lips to part.

"What else could I mean? My esper powers. The stronger I get, the more efficient I'll be at doing my job... and, more importantly, helping you when you've met a challenge you can't face on your own. I won't reach that goal unless I invest my own time and effort."

"I don't think that's something you should worry about, Kuroko." The quickness of her reply was off-putting. "Okay? Being a Level Four suits you best."

Anyone who did not know Misaka well enough would have thought that she was a competitive type. One of only seven Level Fives in all of Academy City simply defending her prestigious position.

But Kuroko knew her dear Misaka better. She was as humble as they came, and always encouraged each of her friends in their endeavors... Unless she knew it would ultimately bring them harm.

If anything, Misaka was warning her about striving to become a Level Five. She herded her away from an unseen foe that lurked within the looming shadows, glaring with fiendish eyes. It was a foe that sealed Misaka's lips shut, forbidding her from uttering even the slightest morsel that would uncover its existence. Kuroko had enough intuition to unpeel the utmost layer of her message.

And they left it at that.


	4. Chapter 4

The entire drama that went down at Joseph's became known to the Tokiwadai administration, as two of its students were involved (one even injured). The two partners in crime, Mikoto Misaka and Kuroko Shirai, would be included in a report, but, even more so, punished. They had broken the curfew laws by sneaking out of their dormitory past twenty-hundred. The dorm matron, with arms crossed, greeted the pair for the first time since the incident with a frown. Misaka did not suffer as much as the feeble Kuroko, who was treated with a good crack of the neck.

Kuroko was bound to her bed in hypothetical chains, as she was forbidden to leave the room, even for the sake of work or school. For nearly an entire week, she was stuck in prisoner's clothes (pajamas) and subject to sheer loneliness, which was only remedied by Misaka when school let out, or, a single instance, a visitation from Uiharu and Saten. Misaka never neglected Kuroko, for she seldom stopped to do other things instead of immediately retreating to the dorms after school. The dialogue of the first five minutes of her arrival became copied and pasted each day.

"I'm home."

"Hi, Sissy."

"How do you feel?"

"Awful."

One day, which dared to deviate from monotony, Misaka came in, plopped down on the end of Kuroko's bed, and sighed.

"The administration finally found a way to punish us for sneaking out." When Kuroko failed to answer, she buried her hands between her legs, briefly studied the emotionless ceiling, and blinked. "They want us to sweep, mop, and polish the cafeteria floors."

"That's not so bad," Kuroko replied, monotone. "Unless you have a bullet hole in one of your shoulders..."

"Yeah. That's why they weren't so pressing about when it got done. They said they were willing to wait until you started to regain your strength." One of her hands scratched the back of her neck. "But, you know, I was thinking about doing it myself while you rested."

Whatever had sapped Kuroko of her vigor disappeared in an instant, for she quickly brought herself to sit up with saucers for eyes.

"No way!" she exclaimed forcefully. "There's no need for you to do that, Sissy! You should just wait for me to get fully healed, or even better, I can just go now!" She swung her arm about despite how it screamed with pain, which she managed to ignore with a smile. "See? I'm in tip-top shape. No need to go it alone when I can go it with you. All you have to do is wait here while I get dressed and-"

Misaka forced her to stop by snatching her wrist, which she slowly lowered to the surface of the bed. The insistence in her face was a force that demanded reckoning.

"Stop hurting yourself, Kuroko," she commanded strictly. "I know when you're lying, so there's no need for you to go around saying you're fine when you're not."

"But I-"

"This is about more than that bullet wound, you know. Even when you _do_ get fully healed, I still don't think you should exhaust yourself. Not with that _other_ problem of yours."

Her words were enough to silence Kuroko, barren of insistence. Her eyes dropped onto the cream spread across her bed, a portion of which she took into a clenched fist.

"You're probably right," she muttered pitifully.

"The best remedy for that sort of issue is resting, so rest." Misaka turned to her with a smile. Despite the negative vibe circulating the air, it did not seem forced. "You still trust your Sissy, don't you?"

A pang in Kuroko's chest made her grip on the comforter tighten.

"You're such a selfless soul," she sighed. "I sure could kiss you right about now."

"Please don't."

Defeat returned Kuroko's back on the bed. Assisting defeat, Misaka ventured to the curtains with the intention to close them, leasing the room to darkness. The door became her next destination, but she would not reach it without a slight tone rising from the occupied bed.

"How long do you think you'll be?"

Misaka paused before the postern, eyes filled with hesitation.

"However long it takes me," she finally replied with a snicker while turning the door knob. "I'll see you sooner or later. Be good."

And she was gone...

...And a fool to think Kuroko would stay still for long. For many days in a row she had been confined to that confounded bed, and she could stand it no longer. Misaka had not been departed for even five minutes before Kuroko brought herself up again, eyes dully gazing to the wall. For many solid minutes she remained in such a tedious position, lost in the realms of her deepest thoughts. Those same eyes eventually trailed down to her palms. They were small palms, still growing, but capable. They helped her when she finally departed from the covers to wander into the washroom.

The mirror met her when she arrived, and she was hesitant to study the image it reflected. Last she checked, which had been a while, she did not recall looking particularly healthy, and a check-up did not lead her beliefs astray. Relentless time in the indoors had bleached her already somewhat-pale skin paler, which brought all the more attention to the two violet sacs drooping beneath her eyelids. She seemed sickly, she realized with distaste as she brought a hand to rub her jaw.

"Look at you, Kuroko. You look terrible. Do you wear this face even when Sissy comes around?" she asked herself groggily. When there was no answer (as expected), she let her hand fall from her face and smack the counter. Her neck lost structure, causing her head to drop. She got an excellent view of the pristine sink and how the excreted little droplets of water, one at a time. She did not bother fixing it. "No wonder she's so worried about you. Whether you claim to be her vanguard or nay, she's not going to leave you to help yourself. To think all this started because of some stupid dreams. To think, to think..." After hesitating, her wandering gaze landed on a certain article next to the sink. It was a toothbrush, relaxing on a designated stand. Just a plain, boring ol' toothbrush. Even so, regardless of how unremarkable it was, she made it subject to her grasp when she clutched it in a hand.

Then she focused on it.

She focused on it the hardest she could.

Even a pinch, a centimeter away from her hand, would suffice. It would make her the happiest person in the world. Anything to indicate that her abilities were still at her disposal would allow her to truly rest.

Nonetheless, no matter how badly she wished, hoped, or dreamed, the toothbrush did not move, nor disappear, from her hand.

Still, nothing worked.

With a groan of defeat, her face roughly met the counter, and she did not bother moving for an abnormally long time. When she did move, she was slow, revealing a quaint red bruise that gathered in the bulls-eye of her forehead. She saw herself in the mirror for a second time. The hopelessness gathering in her eyes made her cringe. At last, she was overcome by defeat.

"I bet even that troglodyte hasn't had this kind of..." She paused when a realization barged into her mind. "...problem..." What replaced the hopelessness was not any better: sorrow. "I see now. I see why you like that Touma Kamijou, Sissy. Even though you are the third most powerful Level Five in all of Academy City, Tokiwadai's Ace, you're still a vulnerable girl with her share of insecurities. One of the few things you truly seek is someone who can relieve those insecurities. Someone stronger than you that will make sure you're safe. The only Level Fives that are above you are both said to be clinically insane, much like those beneath you. You thought you were all alone, left to fend for yourself if ever you encounter a threat you can't pacify on your own. People like me or Uiharu or Saten, your underlings, would be nothing short of baggage. More people to worry about should something happen. But Touma... that Touma Kamijou... he's the one you were looking for. That Level Zero you couldn't defeat; he's the one that's stronger than you, the one that will stand by your side in the face of the bitterest of foes." She sunk to the ground with a sigh, seeking structure from an imminent wall. "How can I compete with that while in this state? So long as I am below you, Sissy, I'll never qualify to be your vanguard as I once swore to be. If I truly love you, which I do with all of my swelling heart... I'll forfeit my selfish desires and let my interests lie in the arms that can truly protect you... even if those arms aren't mine..."

Kuroko forfeited many things since such a realization came to play. Another would be delivered by the paper she slapped before Konori the first day back at the office. Konori, curious, peeled the document off her desk and briefly allowed her eyes to skim over the heading. Her expression, as Kuroko successfully predicted, hardened not even a second later, especially as she returned to her visitor.

"You're resigning?" she questioned, her tone thick with the desire to withhold emotion. Stone-faced, Kuroko nodded briefly.

"That's my two weeks notice."

"What made you decide this?"

"It's been nearly four weeks, and my powers still have not returned. If I don't have them at my disposal, nearly three quarters of my job here is obsolete. Even though I could still function here in the office, I don't know how long I can handle being unfit to carry out the jobs that used to be mine." Her shoulders, including the one that had recently healed, sunk. "The mere thought reminds me of how this entire ordeal has made my life crumble. I'm sure you understand how difficult it is for me."

Konori relieved the paper back on her desk, frowning in the meantime.

"I can understand how that may be hard, but I've always known you for your strong constitution, physical and emotional. Though I'll respect whatever decision you make, there's no keeping me from wondering if you're thinking straight. Are you sure you aren't overreacting?" Albeit slightly, she leaned closer. "I'm asking this because I'm not oblivious to the events that got you shot a few weeks ago. As an esteemed Judgment officer myself, I'd be rather embarrassed to have a civilian save me instead of the other way around. Is the case the same with you?"

Kuroko reddened and dared to turn away for a fleeting moment, lips retreating to the insides of her mouth.

"Absolutely not."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I said it's _not_!" she returned harshly, painfully defensive. "As I mentioned before, losing my abilities has impacted my life to a degree I never could have imagined. There are things going on with me... personal issues between close ones and myself... They're not just complicated, but painful as well. That on top of trying to juggle this job isn't doing me any favors."

Konori's arms crossed, a sign that no fiber was willing to back down from what she saw was a challenge.

"It sounds more like you just need a break from work, you workaholic. That might be what drove you to lose your powers in the first place. They say overuse of an esper ability has its consequences."

She was surprised when Kuroko, despite being in such a vulnerable state of body and mind, rose to the competition as well. Her challenge was marked by how her palm lightly slapped the surface of the desk before settling. Such a mundane action spoke volumes.

"Where all respect is due, I didn't come here to theorize what may or may not have made me lose my abilities, nor did I come here to ask for a break. I came to let you know I'm resigning because I don't feel like I belong here."

An open flank, Konori saw with a smug grin. She took a dive for the soft spot before Kuroko's defenses resurrected.

"So that's the issue. You're so used to being a field officer you don't know what to do with yourself anymore."

The blow struck her arguer hard, hence why her pupils ignited with an immature ember of fury. She utilized whatever energy was within her to attempt to quench the spark before it grew into an inferno.

"I figured that sort of information might have been inherent to the things I just said..." she grumbled. "Thanks for making me feel better about myself by putting it out there."

"You're welcome. In return, you can choose between two options." Konori displayed a pair of fingers. "One, you can take a vacation to clear your mind. Or two, you can get yourself adjusted to office work by sorting through the files in the storage room."

The inferno broke lose.

"I don't believe you. Are you forcing me to continue working here even after everything I just told you?" she snatched her resignation paper and waved it before Konori's face. "I'm leaving in two weeks."

"As your chief, I won't allow that." Konori replied, unfazed. "At least, not without some time. I'll make you do one of the two options I gave you for as long as a week, and once that week is up, _then_ I'll let you decide what you truly want to do. Can we compromise on that?"

Kuroko could not stand the thought of going back to doing nothing at the dorm all day, so she ended up in the storage room, surrounded by a pool of papers into which she easily got lost. The process of remembering names, dates, locations, and times gave her mind plenty to chew on, and by the time she was to head home, she was exhausted. All the time of resting, as Misaka put it, made her forget what it was like to work.

Arrival to the dorm granted her with the sight of Misaka, who, as the clock would promise, was seated on her bed, dashing the teeth of her brush through strands of wet hair. She seemed put off by Kuroko's uncharacteristically dull expression, but it had become so commonplace as of late it could be argued that it was not, in fact, uncharacteristic at all. It was the very reason she said not a word in its regard.

"Have a good first day back at work?" she smiled, most likely in the hopes that it would better Kuroko's mood. The moment she plopped on her own bed across the room, Kuroko gazed into her face. She seemed hesitant, but eventually acted on whatever she withheld.

"Did I tell you I'm quitting?"

"Judgment?" Misaka exclaimed. No longer could she remain calm, not in the face of such an unrealistic claim. "I know you're not feeling much like yourself, but not to the extent that you would..."

"It's more than just not feeling like myself, Sissy..." she corrected softly. "I feel like I've lost myself entirely."

When silence settled between them Misaka lowered her brush, and she abandoned it on the surface of her bed. She rose and made a brief trek across the room, drawing nearer to her roommate. Sighing, she set a fist on either side of her hip.

"I suppose it was a matter of time until you got depressed. It's laughable to think that I'm actually surprised... But then again, you've never seemed like the type to get depressed in the first place, so I can cut myself some slack." She took a seat next to the girl, reached over, and gently nudged her shoulder to guide her closer. Instead of scooting, Kuroko weightlessly toppled onto her, using her as a pillar for support. What Misaka got was not what she aimed for, but it was plenty generous in allowing her to meet her bottom line, which would be taming the most rigid of muscle in her back with the most delicate of fingertips. Seeing that Kuroko did not move, she assumed she did not mind the treatment. Not that it was terribly much of a surprise after all, as, when it came to Misaka, physical touch was Kuroko's coveted prize.

It truly was nothing less than an incredible feat for Misaka to hold Kuroko so close with so little regard. Any moment, if she so wished, Kuroko's mischievous hands could jolt to life and take a spelunking trip to indecent places. Though such a risk was nigh, so imminent and threatening, it had not even been considered. The beast at last had been domesticated, head easily sliding onto her master's lap as if she were a mere house cat. Kuroko's eyes closed as the rubbing continued with no clear sign of ceasing. Her breath gradually deepened, delivering weariness she fought to control.

"I've had a lot of time to think to myself lately."

"Yeah? They say thinking's a good thing, but I say too much has its drawbacks."

"If my powers never return, how will that affect our relationship, Sissy?"

Misaka stopped rubbing and frowned. Those same fingers that were once so gentle and loving traversed the girl's back and wrapped around her skull, where she tugged her head upwards.

"That's all you've been yapping about for goodness knows how long. This mopey attitude doesn't suit you, and that makes me worried and annoyed at the same time." Her index began tapping impatiently on her temple. "And you know how much I don't like confusing emotions, so why don't we discuss all the positive aspects about this?"

"How can this possibly be good?"

"For starters..." Misaka's hand returned to its original occupation. "If you're out of Judgment, that gives you more time to hang out with me during the day. We can hit the arcade after school on Thursdays, go read manga on Mondays and Wednesdays, and on Fridays we should grab dinner from someplace cheap. Sounds like a blast, doesn't it?"

More time with Misaka was mighty tempting, but Kuroko questioned the point. More time with Misaka would ultimately inflict more heartache. More of a reminder that the pinnacle desire of her heart was unreachable. Such woe, such burdens, were far too exhausting to encounter after a day full of work, and Kuroko was in no mood to face them.

"I'll consider it," she whispered sluggishly. The massages were taking a toll on her involvement in the conversation. Sleepiness took her captive and held her hostage, and Misaka, a terrible person, did not bother paying the ransom Instead, she only encouraged its dastardly schemes by remaining quiet, watching as her friend's weight grew heavy with slumber.

Misaka's eyes darkened, for she realized that such a turn of events was most likely what was best.

Against her desires otherwise, this was what she wanted. What was needed.

But things would not always remain stable. Not forever.

Returned had the relentless nightmares, all malicious and thirsty for the saltiness of blood.

No wait.

Kuroko was not dreaming. She was awake. It was an entirely new day, dawning on its end and waiting for her to close it with a return to the dorm. Uiharu disappeared behind the door to her apartment after a wave and exchange of good-byes, leaving Kuroko alone in the darkness of a hallway.

She did not dream.

Reality settled, seeped into her skin with its venomous toxins and did not yield to any antidote. The venom, the fear, almost made her delirious when she realized she was not alone. Nothing on days in the past had made her so uneasy, but something... Something today put her on an edge she had no choice but to balance upon. The hairs on the back of her neck stood with every step she took, and she dared to break into a sprint when she felt the most uneasy.

The staircase she had just finished deescalating deposited her into the streets, lifeless as it was cold. Her only friend, a distant streetlamp whose light it could not kindly guarantee, was the first thing for which she homed. Once in the shelter of its merciful light, she sought to replenish her stamina.

Her hairs still would not go down. Someone, something, allowed her not to be alone, and it was not just her unreliable friend the street lamp. She was driven from her only source of sanctuary and dashed in search of a replacement she would not find immediately. As a matter of fact, she would not find a replacement for a while, and the worry drove her off track to a direction with which she was not acquainted. Despite being granted navigation-savvy skills by Judgment patrols, she could not guide herself confidently. The city was a different beast when the moon came to rise, and it was a beast that howled at that moon ferociously. Turns she did not recognize greeted her with suspiciously open arms, but she had no choice but to trust them, lest her straying from speed would surely grant her ominous pursuer time to make undesired gains.

Delving deeper into the darkest parts of the city fueled her with anxiety, a cheap diesel that burned quickly and left her exhausted. The exhaustion, no friend of hers, betrayed her, for it led her into a mistaken sense of security, a bargaining in her mind that perhaps, just for a moment, she could capture her long-sought rest with few repercussions.

She would have been better off had she listened to her gut, which urged her further. A thick, steady hand wrapped itself around one of her shoulders, the one that still complained of a gunshot wound. She froze in sheer terror as a deep voice rang from behind.

"Miss Kuroko Shirai, I'm going to need you to cooperate slowly."

Her chest burned. Her stomach cried. Her muscles ached.

It knew her name.

"Wh-What do you want from me?"

"Stay calm, quiet, and obedient. I can't guarantee your safety if you choose to act out of line."

"And if I don't? My conscience is telling me you can't guarantee my safety even if I _did_ stay in line. You clearly know my name, so I would suppose you know who it is you're messing with here. I am a L-"

"Level Four spacial movement esper, a first year at Tokiwadai Middle School, and a soon-to-retire Judgment Officer. That was only a few things I know about you. The rest is reserved for when you believe you can call the shots again."

Fairly basic information. Kuroko was only slightly impressed. But what did bring her fear, however, was the promise that the details might have been more intimate. Did he know where she was headed? That she could not use her abilities? Guessing was a true gamble, and she would be a fool to act upon anything that made her feel leery.

Fear made people do awfully foolish things, such as sprinting away when the shadow's guard seemed its lowest. A demand to halt followed behind her, but she knew better than to listen to it. With laboring lungs and legs, she continued down an obscure path she prayed would be merciful enough to be her savior. It was kind enough not to throw anything nasty towards her, but it did little to protect her from something metal as it beat against her back. The impact hit powerfully enough to stun her, and yet what caused the impact was but a puny aluminum pail, judging by the sound it made once it hit the ground.

Before she could ponder too long on how it could have possibly hit her with such force, she found herself pelted by several members more.

One felt like a pebble, which did not hurt too badly.

The other was an empty soda can, again not too painful.

But the third attack was the charm; a brick that beat her square in the back of the neck, providing a force strong enough to land her on her knees. With a hiss, she attempted to bring herself back to her feet. Her neighbor, a neutral, but rusted, dumpster, gave her something sturdy to spread her hand against as she stumbled onwards.

Her opponent, most likely, had a sort of esper ability. What sort rested far beyond her knowledge or cares, as she had yet to seize an observation of the power in action, much less the user's face. Little did the details matter, for her primary interest rested in escaping. She had to get somewhere, anywhere, that was public, as shadows did not favor places in which they could be seen. The dorm, once a prison, sounded like heaven, a heaven for which she longed...

...Especially when she turned down the umpteenth, and final, corner. Before her stood a menacing dead end she struggled to believe was real. When reality washed down upon her, she panicked and whipped around, where she found her pursuer slowly easing closer.

And then he began running.

How she wished, how she longed to cultivate the strength to rise and fight back.

But fear rendered her absolutely paralyzed in the heat of the dreaded moment.

She began thinking.

Saten.

Konori.

Uiharu.

Her mother.

Her father.

Misaka...

What would they do? How would they react to her disappearance? Would it even be a murder? They needed not to waste their precious time and resources worrying about her... Not when the issue could have been helped.

It could have been helped had she not had those confounded nightmare that left her confidence, her life, in shambles... How dreadfully angry she became in the midst of her fit of terror. How would she have ever guessed that her handicap would ultimately lead to her demise?

She was Kuroko Shirai: once a proud and powerful esper, now a weakling about to meet an uncertain fate.

How could she?

Her brain, a vigorous calculating machine, began working. It mapped all she knew of the city, her domain, her dimension, and envisioned a field that was not tangible. It was a flow to which she had grown accustomed, but she felt that it was a long-abandoned friend. She wanted to guide it home so desperately. By any mean she could possibly take.

The flow...

It was far smoother than she recalled it. Had it been that long? Or had the frightening nature of the situation made her polish it with grace that did not flee?

The sound of something heavy whamming against asphalt made her eyes she did not remember shutting snap open. Before her, instead of the silhouette of a sprinting man, stood the dark side of a neutral, but rusted, dumpster. She did not remember that being there. It was further down the alleyway.

And where was the man?

Shaken, her eyes traveled down, where they widened almost immediately. She found her pursuer, but not as she last saw him. All she could see was his hands, which protruded from underneath the dumpster, twitching and lifeless. The rest of his body was unseen. It had been hidden. Crushed beneath her rusty neighbor.

Kuroko had the logic to know it did not normally rain dumpsters, which made her buckle onto the ground in a quivering fit.


	5. Chapter 5

Misaka had not lent herself to sleep. Not yet anyhow. A wholesome pair of hours glided past curfew, and Kuroko had yet to make her return to the dorm. Granted, Misaka was well aware of the fact that, on certain occasions, Kuroko remained in the office to a time that violated curfew, but it was never long enough to inflict her with worry.

Misaka was worried.

What stockpiled onto her uneasiness was the trio of unanswered calls she had given the girl. The first time she considered an unfortunate coincidence, the second she figured was the volume on vibrate, but the third... The third put her on edge. Contrary to any mannerisms instilled in her well-behaved brain, she caved and dialed Uiharu's number, whose voice greeted her after a handful of dial tones.

 _"Hello?"_ she heard. As anticipated, it was most certainly Uiharu that answered, but it was a tired Uiharu, an Uiharu with whom she had yet to acquaint.

"Uiharu. It's Misaka."

 _"Mmm..."_ Uiharu seemed to struggle to awaken herself fully, as proven by the pause that was occupied by a throaty yawn. _"Hey, Misaka... Don't you know what time it is? Why're you calling this late on a school night?"_

"I know. Look, I'm sorry, but I'm just calling to check on Kuroko. Do you know how she is?"

 _"Shirai? She dropped me off at home an hour or so ago. As far as I know..."_ Another yawn. _"She was heading straight back to you guy's place... Something wrong?"_

Misaka began munching on her lip anxiously.

"She hasn't gotten here yet."

 _"That's a little strange."_

"Only a little?

 _"Yeah."_

"Aren't you worried about her?"

 _"Not much. This is Shirai we're talking about, isn't it? She's one of Judgment's most valuable field officers, so she's not going to get herself in trouble that easily."_

Misaka, at such a point, began to collapse in a mild state of panic. Kuroko did not need to be out so late while she was powerless. Not in a city that was Academy City. She started to pace around the room despite any words in the back of her head that warned against it.

"If she doesn't get back anytime soon..."

As Misaka predicted, Kuroko was not in good shape.

She was across the city, stumbling through foreign alleyways with one thing to keep her on her feet: the wall, which was grimy from an eternally dank environment. Once or twice the ground surprised her with something that would cause her to slip, but sheer determination, and fear, drove her to fight for her steady.

Early in her travels, she backtracked the route she had taken during the heat of being pursued from her shadowy, but now dead, chaser. Along the way, she happened upon a sight she had intentions to investigate: a rectangular patch on the cement ground that was different from the rest, a place that had yet to be violated by trampling feet. The dumpster had been there, no doubt, and it had not moved for a very long time.

 _"Until now..."_ Kuroko thought with unease. A headache that began settling threatened to throw her thoughts askew. _"And I have no clue how it somehow landed on that man. It couldn't have been me that moved it, even if my powers have returned. I'd have to be touching it, and a dumpster exceeds the maximum weight at which I can teleport something."_ She wondered if the panic at the time threw her senses into a brief vacation, for if it did, it would most certainly make her miss something. She checked to make sure she was still powerless by attempting to teleport herself, where she was only to be greeted by a scream from her stinging head. A hiss escaped her lips as she drew to a pause, clutching her skull in hopes of remedying the pain. _"No. It wasn't me. That must mean there's an esper somewhere around here, and I'm not entirely sure if they're friend or foe."_ She conducted a scan of her environment. Nothing was wrong. She did not even feel watched or followed as she had earlier. _"I need to get moving before another problem shows up."_

The more she moved, however, the more painful her headache became, and it brought uninvited guests: a furious tremble that afflicted each limb, cripplingly feverish chills that rushed up and down her body, and weak bones. Saliva came as an overhaul to her mouth, and before long, it hurt to swallow even the slightest bit. Her next means of disposal was spitting every trio of seconds and running the sleeve of her uniform over her moistening lips.

Nothing seemed to better her condition. Not even discovering a sight she long coveted: the lights of a populated area of the city. She had begun gasping for air by the time she grunted out of the narrow vein of the alley, and she immediately homed for her next source of structure, which would be the mailbox shooting a breeze beside the nearly unoccupied road.

The sights, once she took them in, brightened her dulling eyes. She recognized this junction, and it was most certainly possible to get home safely from there... But it was quite a ways, and she worried she had no teeth the endurance to make it without letting her unknown illness prevail. She remained still against the mailbox as she thought, but a hand suddenly tapped her on the shoulder.

A woman stood behind her, wearing a mildly concerned expression. The woman's eyes widened upon laying eyes on Kuroko's face.

"Oh heavens, are you okay, dear?" asked the stranger. She looked as if she had just seen a ghost, most likely because Kuroko was nearly as pale as one.

"I'm... fine..." Kuroko found it taxing to say that much, especially when her head threatened to spin.

"You don't look fine. Why, you're pale and everything! And your poor eyes..." The woman momentarily dug around in her purse to withdraw a miniature beauty mirror, whose cap she flipped open. Without hesitation, she brought it to display.

Each of Kuroko's eyes, the mirror swore, were bloodshot, and it was no mild case. Shocked, she sounded with a quick gasp and felt compelled to ease away from the sight as if she thought it could be escaped. The road behind forbade her from getting far.

"I-I..." She was at a complete loss for words and forgot the rest to her trembles.

"Do you know what's wrong? Can I help you?"

"I don't even kn-know how I can help _myself,_ " she replied worriedly. Without a further word, she turned and left the scene as quickly as she could, even when the concerned woman pitifully beckoned for her return.

The office of Judgment Branch One Hundred Seventy-Seven was near the junction, and, according to Kuroko's deteriorating condition, it would be the best course of action to take shelter there for the night. The Tokiwadai campus was simply too far away, and there was almost no chance, Kuroko was sure, she could make it without collapsing. Somewhat unwilling, Kuroko staggered her way to the building the best she could, sure to avoid any sources of suspicious behavior. Scaling the stairs to the door proved to be a problem for her once arriving at the building, for she was deduced to gripping the rail guard with one hand and running the fingers of the other along the ground. The pitiful climb ceased when she arrived at a familiar entrance, whose hospitality she searched for in the pocket of her skirt.

Getting inside did not present any problems besides the predicted yelp of the motion detector alarm, which she was able to quench by sloppily jabbing a successful series of numbers onto a keypad. The very moment she secured the door by locking it, Kuroko collapsed onto the ground with a mewl.

Never had the floor felt so inviting, and not once did she question its cleanliness. The utmost concern that seized the reigns of her mind was achieving remission, and fast. Allowing her aching muscles to relax presented itself as the most effective decision, so she gave it its well-deserved chance.

Misaka came to mind, not a surprise considering that it happened to be Kuroko that was doing the thinking.

 _"Sissy..."_ she thought pitifully. _"She's going to be worried sick the moment she realizes I'm not coming home... assuming she hasn't noticed already. Staying here for the night without giving her a heads-up is the worst thing I, her so-called best friend, could do to her. I'm obligated to give her a phone call, but I'm almost certain she'll sneak out to make sure I'm okay... And the last thing I want is for her to trouble herself for my sake... Again..."_

The idea of calling Misaka instead of leaving her in the dark appeared to be outweighed, for Kuroko, after a few minutes more of resting, allowed her fingers to crawl back into the depths of her pocket with the intention to retrieve her phone. The fury at which her hand shook posed as a problem as she attempted to dial the number her heart would never forget: the number she was once able to punch in without a single mistake. The gentle hum of the dial tone against her ear soothed her for the time of its young lifespan. It was murdered by an urgent tone on the other end within seconds.

 _"Kuroko?"_

"Hey, Sissy..." The sound of Misaka's voice brought a slight smile to her lips. Her eyes, still bloodshot and sore, brightened.

 _"Where are you? Don't you have any clue how worried I've been? I've called at least three times!"_ She did sound awfully awake. Kuroko could best assume that she had not received a lick of sleep, which confirmed her prediction that Misaka had been weary. On the downside, a weary Misaka often colluded with a ferocious Misaka.

"I apologize... for that. On the way... home I... ran into a little bit of trouble."

 _"Think I couldn't figure that out by the way your voice sounds? I want to know where you are. Now."_

"There's no need... to be worried, Sissy. I'm... fine... now. I called to... make sure you knew that. So... get a good night's rest... okay?"

 _"You must've hit your head pretty hard to think you can shake me off that easily. There is no way in hell I'm going to stay here. Tell me where you're at. If you don't, I'll_ _tear this city apart looking for you, and when I find you..."_ A crack of electricity followed.

A shiver jolted up Kuroko's spine at the thought, for she knew well that Misaka was not bluffing. Seldom did Misaka bluff; she did not have to. There was power at her disposal, so all there was to do was threaten. Most of the time, she got her way with ease.

"You... don't need to worry... about me. Please... stop getting yourself-"

 _"In trouble for you? Is that the most of your concerns right now? If you think there's been some sort of biding debt you have to me, I'd be more than happy to collect it. Do you really want that? If not, save me some time."_

Defeat swept over the girl. Misaka was as hard-headed as always, and she never let it pause, not even for her closest of friends. After letting her shoulders droop closer to the floor, Kuroko released the heaviest sigh she could muster.

"I can't, Sissy... I'm in a bad-"

 _"Kuroko Shirai, tell me where you are right now!"_

"I'll be home... tomorrow, so... there's no need to... fret. Good night..."

 _"Kuroko!"_

Misaka became muzzled with a simple press of a button. The aftermath led to a union between Kuroko and the silence until Misaka's attempt to reunite their connection became their divorce. They rekindled their romance, for Kuroko did not take the call. Instead, she simply watched her phone vibrate for a complete thirty seconds.

Her eyes glazed over the screen, which displayed a photograph. All the volumes of her secret photo albums, who lay hidden beneath her bed in the dorm, could not compare to that one photograph. It was not candid as the others, and it displayed the subject in the best state possible. She recalled the day she took that photo. It was on a hot summer's day. The two had just overcome the most miserable punishment Tokiwadai had to offer: scrubbing the school swimming pool. Though beet red and drenched in sweat, Misaka gardened the widest smile, a victorious smile, while she retired her broom. Kuroko failed to stop her obsessed hands from rushing to her phone to snap a picture. Joy seemed to give Misaka consent to spend, for she was sure to roughly run her fingers through her oily hair while giving the camera a wink. Thus produced the perfect pose for the perfect picture.

Kuroko felt awful, for the photograph eloped with the vibrating so she could be with the silence again. Not even a minute later, the newly-weds made for an encore. Again were they ignored, leaving a black screen, whose reflection left Kuroko with her bloodshot eyes. With heaviness welling in her panting chest, she rolled onto her side, curled her form, and set a hand on her temple.

"I really am sorry, Sissy..." she grumbled. "...I'm just... in a state I... can't bare the... thought of you seeing me in..."

There was no doubt that Misaka was making preparations to depart from the dorm, assuming she had not left already. There was no telling where she would choose to investigate first, but Kuroko had a list containing plenty of plausible guesses. Such places would not be public, as public places (with the exception of hotels) were not the most appealing to a sickened person. This left private dwellings, such as Uiharu's or Saten's, to be far more likely. If Misaka exhausted those sites first, it was for certain the Judgment office would be next.

Kuroko was well aware that it was a vain endeavor to try hiding from Misaka; Misaka knew Kuroko much too well. The Judgment office was a horrible place in which to hide, as it was blatantly obvious. In truth, though, there seemed to be little choice on her end. Kuroko was dreadfully ill, and there was no way she could muster the strength to migrate someplace further down the list. The best she could do was pitifully crawl onto her feet, barely catching herself when she stumbled.

When Misaka arrived at a scene, there was a chance she would only search for mere signs of Kuroko's presence, as doing an in-depth purge of every nook and cranny would tax her with time. Kuroko made sure to erase such evidence at the office by arming the door alarm. Upon finishing, she staggered her way deeper into the building.

Arming the door was not enough, her conscience told herself. In addition to being hard-headed, Misaka was also smart. If Misaka knew Kuroko did not want her near, it was logical for her to conclude that Kuroko would turn on the alarm to ward her elsewhere. Such was the very reason why, after grabbing a pillow off a couch in the waiting room, Kuroko retreated to the supply closet next to the kitchen. Beyond settling in there, no other deceptive options remained in her arsenal.

She made a home for herself between mountains of unused copy paper and spare ink. There was little strength, and light, at her disposal to move a few piles to barricade herself into a fortress, so she had no choice but to make do with whichever spot seemed the most secretive by default. Her ultimate decision set her in the corner. With her business complete, she at last found time to attempt remedying her aching bones. When nothing worked, she found that the next best route was making herself comfortable in preparation for enduring the pain. Thanks to the pillow that had been brought along, she was able to accomplish that much.

In the silence again, she was deduced to wheezing, feeling as sweat trickled down her face. Her sensitive body could feel each and every change, which unfortunately included how her trembling worsened.

 _"What on earth is going on?"_ she wondered. _"Mere adrenaline from that chase shouldn't be enough to put me in this sort of pain. And my head..."_ She groaned. _"It feels like that one time, many years ago, when I pushed my power beyond the limit of overuse. How can I feel that way if I...?"_ She froze, eyes widening. _"If I never used my power? Or had I? But... the dumpster... I wasn't touching it and it was far too heavy. My powers... Is it possible that they've...?"_ The thought alone spooked her, so she halted it immediately. _"Not at all. Rest is what I need. After all, Konori did work me awfully hard today. I'll be sure to jot that down on the list of favors I need to return..."_

She tried putting herself to sleep, but it was a difficult task to accomplish when it was the single thing in which she invested her attention. It took at least an hour for her thoughts to stray elsewhere, and only then did her eyes finally shut for the last time. Unfortunately, it did not feel like she had rested for long, for she jolted awake at the sound of a thump.

And another thump.

Having just been asleep, Kuroko was puzzled and almost assumed the noise was a figment of an immature dream. Time, however, corrected her mistaken notions. Her senses returned, and she grew tense despite the protests of aching muscles.

The thumps were muffled, which marked distance, but the impact could be felt in the walls. If her hunch was correct, someone, or something, was attempting to diminish the front door, not a good sign given that the front door was not the strongest door. It was a matter of waiting until the thudding stopped, but it was not for the better. The impact stopped because the door at last gave way, and the alarm spewed a shriek that pierced her ears.

Kuroko grew worried. Someone was in the office. Someone unwelcome. If it were a robber, she had no chance of fending him off in her current state. However, to her advantage, she could at least be safe if she chose to stay put in the corner of the closet, which was exactly what she did. In exchange for her well-being, the intruder could do whatever they wanted to the office... Unless it was-

The lights- all of them- turned on in an instant, and the alarm stopped with its furious noise. Kuroko's eyes widened as they wandered up to the ceiling, where they landed on the lone, undecorated light bulb. The light switch for the closet was nowhere near the alarm system, so there was no possible way the intruder could have silenced the alarm and turned on the lights simultaneously... At least not by conventional means.

Misaka had arrived, and there seemed to be no signs that told of her leaving.

Her footsteps, a pattern Kuroko had memorized ages ago, patted along the floor. Investigation took place beyond the closet door, and it did not sound like a petty search. Contrary to Kuroko's predictions, Misaka gave time little discretion, as she was, in fact, giving each room an in-depth purge of every nook and cranny. If she continued at such a rate, Kuroko's hiding place was destined to be blown.

The closer such a subtle sound grew to her hiding place, the closer Kuroko drew to an edge. Judging by how it grew quiet, it could be safely assumed that Misaka gave the kitchen a search. The squeaks of cabinet hinges were all that talked during her time in the kitchen, which was not very large to begin with, and her footsteps returned once she was fruitless.

Misaka strode past the door to the closet, creating a boiling cauldron of fear in Kuroko's bosom. She chose to look there later, however, as the waiting room seemed far more appealing. The waiting room did not offer much sanctuary for a refugee, thus Kuroko's upcoming discovery was not postponed for long.

Soon enough, it sounded as though there was no place left for Misaka to consider looking.

Other than the closet.

Kuroko heard a hefty sigh sound from the other side of the door. The very decibel confirmed the identity of her visitor. Knowing such, dread welled within Kuroko's stomach as the footsteps began approaching her weak fortress. A hand placed itself on the door knob on the other side of the door, and it easily began to turn...

Ever so steadily...

The raw power of suspense tied Kuroko into an inescapable bind.

As the door slowly opened, warning her with a low-pitched creak, a huff of air escaped the hider's nose. There was little use in trying to conceal herself any longer. The moment Misaka walked into the room, she was sure to discover the horrific mess that curled itself in the corner. A tongue, slimy from the overproduction of saliva, ran over her lips as she called for a powerful breath.

"Please... Don't come in here..." she pleaded weakly. Almost immediately, the door halted its journey to openness. Not even a handful of seconds later, it slammed frightfully shut. It was slammed so hard, in fact, it disturbed the light bulb that hung over her head.

"Kuroko..." she heard Misaka's voice, partially blocked by the wooden door, growl. Her tone rumbled with the fury of a lion. "I'm not happy with you."

A spear to Kuroko's heart, those words. How in her right mind could she voluntarily make her Sissy upset? The mysterious illness that had suddenly robbed her of freedom surely robbed her of a right mind as well... But she was clearly well enough to feel the pain, the shame, that had her buckle at the aftermath of each mistake she made because of it. Her eyes, already dull, dulled even more.

"I've already told... you... that I don't want... you to see me..." she rasped.

"Half the city I've torn apart, and I almost forgot to check the one place that happened to conceal who I was searching for. I would've never found you had you chosen not to speak up." The lights suddenly flickered at the sound of a crumble of electricity. For only a second, the alarm released a slight cry. "Would you have let me leave without checking if it truly had slipped my mind? If you had, you would've been stuck here by yourself all night long!" She pounded against the door. Whether it was with the help of her hand or her trusty roundhouse kick was unknown. "That pisses me off! If you were even half as scared as I was..."

Grief had stricken more than just Kuroko, so it seemed. Kuroko felt too weak, and petrified, to bother departing from the closet in hopes of comforting her visitor. It might have been for the better; if Kuroko had troubled herself to rise, costing her much of her precious well-being, it would have been in vain. Misaka departed from the presence of the closet door for a while. The moment Kuroko began fearing that Misaka abandoned her, the door opened again, this time violated by an intruder.

Misaka entered the closet baring a grim expression. It was that same grim expression Kuroko had seen on occasions. Though it was a familiar face, she took no liking to it, for it swirled her pupils into a grimy war between fear, pain, shame, and anger. Every wrathful side of Misaka had been bred into one sick, twisted hybrid that drove all askew from her path.

That expression paused when her eyes landed on the pitiful thing that slouched in the corner.

Pain won the war of her expression, for it melted as she dared to draw nearer. Closer. The details of her eyes, upon which Kuroko fearfully marveled, extended to untold definitions and it made her all the more fearful. What did Misaka think when she saw two bloodshot eyes, a mouth that fought to contain an overhaul, ghastly skin, and quivering limbs? Would that expression ever wish to tell her? Or did it sadistically ache to watch her forever squirm in the dark?

Misaka knelt before her friend slowly, presenting a quaint glass of water that had been retrieved from the kitchen. Kuroko stared at it doubtfully before forcing herself to peek back at her face.

"I don't know... if-"

"Drink it," Misaka insisted. Her tone softened once attacked by the awareness of her own harshness. "Please. Plain ol' water won't do you much harm."

Misaka stood corrected, for the moment Kuroko, in an act of blind faith, brought the brim of the glass to her lips, she broke into a storm of coughs. The liquid, like raw liquor, burned its way down her throat, and it was only for so long she could withhold the need to beg it to stop. She sent a hand to hold her throat, hoping gentle rubs would soothe the stinging that erupted in her core. Though they may have been useless, a series of pats on the back granted by her neighbor was reassuring.

Having developed a fear from it, Kuroko placed the glass on the nearby ground the moment she had the strength, but Misaka insistently returned it to her. A long pause erupted between them, and when Kuroko dared to try breaking it, Misaka stole the honor.

"I know it hurts," she hushed, bringing the dreaded glass closer to her friend, "but you have to trust me."

Kuroko seemed awfully hesitant, but time eventually convinced her to comply, albeit reluctantly. The water still burned, but not to the point that it stole her breath for a second time. It was clear by the paint smeared across her face that the experience was not pleasant. However, victory approached them sweetly, humbly offering an empty glass.

"Please don't tell... me I have to... drink more..." Kuroko murmured, to which Misaka gently shook her head as she reached for the glass resting in her loosening grip. Only then did the cup truly earn the right to retire on the floor, and it was segregated to a place where it would receive little disturbance.

Had she not been so ill and miserable, Kuroko would have taken kindly to Misaka's improved presence. She sat herself beside the other, leaning against the wall. One of her arms, far more healthy than the sickling's, snaked over her shoulder, pulling her close. With little resistance, Kuroko rested against her pillar. The warmth that came with being close almost distracted her from the hand that easily crawled on top of hers: Misaka's hand, whose fingers sewed themselves between hers to create a loving union. Though it was faint, the stronger hand had been inflicted by a slight quiver as well.

"You really scared me, know that?" Misaka's smooth voice rang through the quiet. There was little Kuroko could say to provide acknowledgment, so she settled with a nod. Misaka continued. "There was a reason I wanted to know where you were."

"And I... gave you a reason... why I didn't want... to be found," Kuroko retorted. Though weak, her words seemed just as lively as a healthier version of herself.

Misaka's breath deepened as if to reflect anger, a frustration she caged and would not dare release. Not now, in the very least. In place of prejudice, there flooded a glint of compassion.

"I understand why you didn't want me to trouble myself for your sake. You haven't been able to do terribly much for yourself lately, have you?" Where was she headed with such talk? "I don't think you realize how you and I are exactly alike in that respect. We're always the helper and never the helped, and we like being that way." Her grip on Kuroko's hand tightened, and the lump in her throat stalled her from continuing smoothly. "There was a time not too long ago, though, that made me realize everyone had to be helped at some point in their life, even myself. Not every burden can be shouldered alone no matter how rough or tough we may think we are."

Kuroko frowned and allowed her brows to sink.

"Except this isn't a big deal. It's just a little fever."

She froze when a droplet splattered on her forearm. The sensation of liquid revived the close memories of a screaming throat, but the context drove them far in little time. With widening eyes, Kuroko slowly lifted her pounding head, and she fearfully peered above her. Misaka looked down at her solemnly. From the brim of her eyes leaked bitter tears.

"Do you really believe that?" she whispered.

Of course.

It was Misaka.

Misaka always knew when Kuroko was lying.

With shame, Kuroko averted her gaze.

"Not entirely."

"Why do you say that?"

"B-Because... something strange happened before... I started feeling this way. I was being chased by... a stranger that claimed he... knew things about me. And... when I was cornered..." She displayed her shaking free hand. In the light, it could be seen that it had been assaulted by a chalky blackness and orange fragments of rust. "This dumpster of all things... was suddenly on top... of him. When... I thought I was sure to die... someone saved me."

Misaka became remarkably still. So still, in fact, the aura around her grew thick with a sudden blanket of tension.

Kuroko saw blue erupt from her neighbor's head, and it struck the defenseless light bulb above them. Almost immediately, the pitiful thing shattered, pelting the ground below with merciless shards. To their luck, not a single piece bothered them. Again had the room succumbed to the fearsome powers of the darkness, but Kuroko could have sworn it gave Misaka the courage to hold her tighter.

"You said this man knew who you were?" Kuroko nodded against her rib cage. Nothing more came from Misaka's lips. Not for a while, at least. When the time came, after listening to a modest amount of traffic, including an ambulance, fly past the building, she finally revived. Her fingers that interwove with Kuroko's tightened slightly, an attempt to hold the structureless girl in place. A free hand slowly brought itself to her face and made a cheek subject to a pair of strokes. Kuroko relaxed at the feeling. Misaka's was a light and airy touch, and it seldom grew tired. As soon as her eyes closed, hoping to capture sleep, her eyes opened again.

The sensation of breath could be felt against her nose. Each gust beat against her clammy skin. Though it was a warm breath, it sent chills down her aching spine. No longer could Kuroko find the desire for sleep, for Misaka's mouth gradually eased open.

"Kuroko, can you promise me something?"

A promise. Kuroko feared it would be one she could not keep.

Many times in her life she had made petty agreements with petty people, and she could most certainly say she broke them multiple times. She did not break them for the sake of breaking them; they were just petty. Utterly unimportant and easily forgotten. Kuroko did not value promises often...

Unless they were sworn to Mikoto Misaka.

"I don't know... if I'm eligible..." she whispered, shivering at each breeze.

The breeze paused, only to return as a hurricane. For a reason unknown, Kuroko's heartbeat quickened. She could feel something. A storm her way rolling, and she could not avoid it. Or did she want to at all? Would she had she the mobility? Likely not. Kuroko loved the rain and the wind. She heard the chimes create a gentle chorus in a storm; they sang darling words of affirmation. Not a thing was amiss. Be calm and let the storm pass.

The storm at last arrived.

The wind stole her breath in one unseen union in the dark. One collision of faces set the room adrift in a sea of gentleness.

How warm, that storm, now pressing against her. She could feel the plushness against her quivering lips. In truth, Misaka's quivered as well, but neither objected to drawing it out as long as possible. The desire to have it never end made it seem to last forever.

But all storms had to come to an end.

Misaka's mouth parted from hers with a subtle click that violated the silence, but she did not consider pulling away. She ground her forehead against the other's, sandwiching their auburn bangs between a peaceful collision. Her hand continued to stroke Kuroko's cheek as she took well-needed air.

"I need you to promise me this one thing," she shushed a second time.

Never had such a mellow tone sounded so desperate.

Kuroko could never deny such a need, so she nodded weakly.

"I will," she croaked.

"Attagirl," Misaka replied. Happiness had been sprinkled into her tone, and her hand shifted occupations. Instead of caressing her cheek, her intricate fingers moseyed up to one of Kuroko's twin pigtails. One she undid with ease, and she distributed loosening hair across her back. The opposite, at a more awkward angle, struggled to accomplish the same goal. "Promise me you won't tell anyone about what happened tonight. Not Uiharu, not Saten, not Konori, not the teachers at school, not Judgment, not Anti-Skill..."

Misaka kissed her for that?

"I don't... understand..."

"You don't have to." Misaka guided her friend to lie down, where she rested her head in her lap. The union of their fingers broke, but not to the dismay of Kuroko; both hands gave her all the protection she needed. "You just need to trust your Sissy for now. You still trust me, don't you?"

Kuroko's eyes narrowed. Though there was no light to permit her vision, she knew that Misaka guarded her valorously.

"Always..." she whispered. Misaka motioned her approval with the pat on the cheek.

"Good." Was all she heard. "Get some rest, now."

The warmth of an embrace. The soothing of aching bones. The tranquility of a shivering body. The softening of a headache. All lead to a quick plunge into slumber despite any circumstances.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Hello, friends. I have been spending time doing some cleanup work because, believe it or not, I have finally got my hands on a program with spell-check and my, my, _my_ do I have many spelling errors in previous chapters. I am terribly embarrassed. The problem should be fixed now. Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

Kuroko, being a reasonably hygienic girl that was slowly budding into womanhood, did not touch dumpsters under normal circumstances. It was also reasonable that she did not let dumpsters linger in her mind for too long. The moment both fundamentals were being violated at once made her realize that had succumbed to the frightening forces of a dream. To her favors, such a dream spared her of any malicious imagery as she had endured in week's past, but that did not stop it from straying to the realm of queer.

She seemed to stand in a void of nothingness... that is, until her surroundings gradually began to settle around her. In one of the countless grimy alley ways of Academy City she found herself, and she had no idea why. A glance at her arm, which was decorated, granted her the sight of her Judgment sash clearly presented. It could be best assumed that, like normal, she was out on duty. Even in a dream, Kuroko did not abandon her obligations, so she proceeded to continue with her patrolling...

Until, there it was: that blasted, oversized trash can.

She only glanced at it once in passing, but her mind persistently chose to let the thought of such a mundane object saturate. It soiled by the time a voice crept into her ears.

"Pst."

Kuroko froze, immediately checking her six in fear of encountering an unwanted visitor. All she found, however, was loneliness, which led her to carry on after a reasonable time of hesitation, only for the same voice to make a return.

"Hey. Over here."

Again Kuroko froze, but less pacifistic. Armed with a frown, and a few fingers that threatened to reach for the needles strapped to her thigh, she turned around again.

"Alright, who's hiding from me?" she grumbled.

"Me? I'm not hiding, ma'am. Just because I'm a dumpster doesn't mean you should treat me like I'm not here. I have feelings too, y'know."

Though she did not want to, her eyes wandered to the same trash can she had passed. For a moment, a realistic bone in her body would not let her believe her ears. After all, the ear was rather infamous for betraying their owners, and she had been conditioned to know that being an exception stood far, far away. With an overwhelming degree of prejudice, Kuroko carefully backtracked, and she paused before the rusted cube of metal that was the dumpster. It was dull. Old. Uninspired. And not to mention the aged stench it emitted...

"A talking trash can in my dream, hm?" Kuroko announced before capturing her forehead with a palm. "And all this time I had been under the impression I possessed a more sophisticated mind..."

"Oh? Judging by the sound of your voice, I'd say you don't like the idea of me speaking to you. Should I have not spoken at all? Or be it the superior to alter my voice to a voice that caters more to your fancy? I happen to be an aspiring impressionist, so I would adore your feedback." A clear of the throat followed. _"Oh Kuroko, won't you come here and let me share a word or two?"_

The trash can did not lie when it spoke of its talent, for it performed a near-flawless copy of Misaka's voice. Instead of being pleased to hear the sound of her dear Misaka, however, Kuroko retracted as she stiffened, and her hands settled on her hips. Despite finding no face on the dumpster, she gave it a disapproving scowl.

"How dare you. I will not stand here and let you, a giant metal box used for housing garbage, impersonate my Sissy."

"It seems that I've become a bit too talented of an impressionist. Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, so allow me to make up for it by using a different tone..." A clear of the throat followed. _"Oh Kuroko, won't you come here and let me share a word or two?"_

The trash can did not lie when it spoke of its talent, for it could perform not just a near-flawless copy of Misaka's voice, but a near-flawless copy of Touma Kamijou's voice as well. The sound gifted Kuroko with a smirk she shamefully attempted to hide from the dumpster's unseen eyes. She nodded subtly before turning her head.

"A more fitting tone. I forgive you."

"That's swell, because I have a teensy favor to ask. As far as I know, you are the only one who is capable of obliging its satisfaction."

Kuroko, while allowing her hands to slide off her hips, felt one of her brows raise. A favor, the trash can asks? What could a trash can possibly want from her?

"What sort of favor?"

"As I said, it is quite simple. If you couldn't already tell by this godforsaken rust covering my skin, I have lived a long, long life. Unfortunately for me, this long, long life, in addition to being very long, has been utterly eventless. Since day one, I've been stuck here in this back alley, barren of any news or company. Being a dumpster, I am incapable of moving myself to a more happening place."

"I assume you're getting at asking me to help move you?"

"What a decisive girl! I couldn't have worded it better myself. It would mean worlds to me if I could enjoy my last days somewhere less... shall we say dank, cold, and dreary."

After heaving a sigh, Kuroko's shoulders drowned, and her eyes briefly closed.

"You must not know how much you weigh. I'm about as puny as I look."

"My weight shouldn't be any issue against your powers, Miss Judgment Lady. You're one of only a handful of individuals in this great city with spacial movement esper abilities. It's quite grand."

Kuroko shook her head.

"True, but even so, there is a limit to how heavy an object can be in order for me to teleport it. Unfortunately, I am quite sure you surpass that limit."

"Nonsense. You teleported me just a few nights ago."

Silence erupted between the two, and the girl's pupils gradually began to shrink. The longer she stared at the heap of metal, the more uneasy she felt. The more a desire to step away almost consumed her every thought, fiber, and muscle.

"That was a confusing night, no doubt. I won't blame you for misbelieving that I was the one who teleported you onto the man that was chasing me. In reality, I was saved by someone- a good Samaritan presumably- that must have powers similar to mine. The person from whom you seek this favor is not I, I'm afraid."

"You say that with a suspicious amount of hesitation in your voice. Could it be that you aren't sure if you weren't the one that teleported me?"

The longer Kuroko stared, the more she found it to be a chore to simply swallow the saliva that had flooded in her mouth. She blinked a handful of times. Few were voluntary. Her fingers began to tap a nonexistent tune on her thigh while she thought.

"I'm quite reinforced by my notions."

"Hm. How disappointing. Very well. If you would, please, return here once you've been disabused of such notions."

Kuroko did not have time to be disabused of her notions, for her eyes opened to end the vision at once. She found herself where she last knew herself to be: protected by the flawless walls of her dorm, colored by the fresh morning light that spilled inside from the gaping window.

The window was open?

It certainly had not been open during the night. She and Misaka were not as whimsical as most, and therefore would never permit such. Misaka, surprisingly, must have played senior in rising and decided to give the room fresh air. When Kuroko rolled over to find the spot next to her, excluding Kill Bear, vacant, she decided it was the best conclusion to be drawn.

Unbeknown to her for a short time, Misaka departed from the washroom, foaming at the mouth with a toothbrush in hand. She stared at Kuroko until the latter at last recognized her presence. The moment she had an audience, she attempted to present a grin behind all the bubbles gathered at her mouth.

"It's about time you got up. Half the day's gone." She did not speak clearly thanks to the suds, but it was clear enough to be translated properly. Length did not dominate the interval that slithered its way to Kuroko's response:

"You don't seem like you've been up long either, Sissy." She smiled back, but with far less exuberance.

"Looks like you got me there." Misaka momentarily retreated to the washroom, presumably to empty her mouth of foam. Kuroko considered following to greet her with a hug, but her attention was robbed by the realization that Misaka had already dressed herself out of her childish pajamas. Merely puzzled, she frowned, rubbed an eye, and clumsily rose.

"You also look like you're ready to go somewhere. Peculiar for someone who just woke up," she commented.

"Well, I've got a Saturday to waste cleaning the pool..." Misaka retorted heavily.

"What for?"

She did not fail to notice the way Misaka paused. For only a second, her eyes darted away before returning to her.

"I accidentally made a disrespectful remark to a teacher yesterday. No big deal, right?" While she spoke, she watched as Kuroko finally decided to spread her toes across the chilly wooden floor, and she softly glided her way to the doorway of the washroom. An awkward pause erupted between them as she, with squinting eyes, studied her profusely.

"Why are you hiding this from me?" Kuroko asked roughly. "The dorm matron noticed that you and I were cooped up at the Judgment office the other night, didn't she? She's assigned another punishment for breaking curfew?" When Misaka's lips parted, she injected one last comment. "Please don't lie to me."

Misaka, again, looked away. In an attempt to diminish the sincerity of the matter, she began to mindlessly return random things, such as combs, perfume, and hairbrushes, to their respective drawers. The longer she watched, the more Kuroko's frown arched.

"I just think you need more rest," Misaka muttered in the midst of her petty chore.

"Didn't I tell you I feel better now?" Kuroko intersected Misaka's personal space, gently snatched the nearest wrist, and brought the back of her hand to her forehead. After giving her guest time to feel, she looked her in the eye. "I've felt better since yesterday. If this is a punishment meant for both of us, you have to let me do my part."

Since Kuroko told the truth, Misaka had no choice but allow herself to be accompanied. Armed with brooms, sunblock, and bottles of water, the two dared to venture into the territory of the vicious sun, whose prime time plagued the ground with heatwaves. Midday was a risky time to be toying with the sun, but they had slept away the morning. If they waited until the evening, when the sun was docile, they would not finish until the moon debuted.

Long ago, Misaka and Kuroko found the gap where their cogs could fit in the mechanism that was cleaning the pool. After all, their persistent antics constantly earned them the job. Like usual, Misaka became the general, for she led the charge against the grime that had made its home on the floor and walls. Kuroko, a simple troop, followed after her general, checking for spots that may have been missed. When one felt swayed by the heat, the other would accompany them to the poolside bench that basked in protection from the sun. Both would proceed to take a healthy dosage from their respective water bottles.

The third break, which initiated once it was declared that the job was a quarter of the way finished, was no different than the previous duo; Kuroko and Misaka sat side by side, gulping water, swatting at sweat, and exchanging complaints about the late spring heat. However, during a small pause, Kuroko happened to grant her eyes the permission to saunter to her neighbor: a soaked, reddened Misaka, who was busy taking a quick swig from her drink.

Since it was Kuroko that was looking at Misaka, it was almost mandatory that she happened to steal a glance at her lips... Except, in the present case, hers was a pinch more than a mere glance, as it had evolved into a bonafide stare. The sight of Misaka's lips, moist, captured Kuroko so, and proceeded to spread a flush across her face. She forced her eyes away when she thought Misaka had caught on to her.

Kuroko was not quick enough.

"Something wrong?" Misaka inquired, observing how Kuroko would not turn to face her.

"N-No..."

"You don't look like it."

Cautious, Kuroko's eyes timidly crawled back to Misaka's face. Instead of pausing at her lips, which were frowning, she delved into her caramel irises. Rows of teeth grazed over one another within the onlooker's mouth, and her hesitation only worsened when she attempted to open it. Time, and Misaka, waited patiently for her to gather the courage hidden within her bosom.

"Um... S-Sissy?"

"What is it?"

"Did you really..." She glanced away again, only to promptly force her gaze back on her. "Two nights ago... did you really kiss me?"

Misaka too looked away, but only so she could casually take another drink.

"Yeah."

A shiver jolted down Kuroko's spine, and her face became cherry red.

"Y-You did? Why?"

"Because I wanted to make extra sure you held true to the promise."

"The one about me not telling anyone about that man? And that sickness?"

"Yep." Misaka emptied the bottle, so she playfully crushed its flimsy remains with her grip. The other hand, far more tame, reached over and pat Kuroko on the crown. "Have you been diligent?"

Flattered by the touch, Kuroko nodded.

"Of course I have."

"Good to hear." Misaka's hand immediately departed from her in exchange for rising to her feet. After stretching and successfully hurling her crushed bottle into a neighboring trash can, she beckoned Kuroko to follow. "Let's get back to work now."

Kuroko wanted to continue with the subject, but it had been ages since she learned to trade the satisfaction of her longings for the satisfaction of others. It was not a painful departure, for Misaka was not the only one who wanted to get done with cleaning that blasted pool.

Like every instance they were assigned the chore, their uniform tactic of cleaning gradually deteriorated into a turf war; Kuroko grew a mind of her own and abandoned her job of cleaning Misaka's mistakes, and Misaka stopped protesting against the independence. By the halfway mark of the job, it was obvious that the two were burning, and their hair had grown terribly wet and oily. If one was foolish enough to run her fingers through such wet tresses, she ran the risk of getting those fingers stuck. Freedom would only be bought at the price of painfully pulling a few strands from her scalp.

They had strayed quite a distance from one another, having gone off on a tangent of their own.

The fatigue that threatened to overwhelm Kuroko temporarily robbed her of awareness to the environment, reducing her to obliviousness. Such included obliviousness to Misaka, to whom she had her back turned. Misaka had risen from slouching over her scrubbing broom and steadily trekked toward her partner. Her footsteps, light as a feather, made it seem as though she did not even want to be noticed. She paused when blue tile replaced cement on the pool's bottom. Their distance was decent, but perfect in her eyes.

"Hey Kuroko," she called. It was the first either had spoken in nearly half an hour of miserable labor, so Kuroko immediately responded to it. Her eyes were wide with hope. Had Misaka grown as fatigued as she and was prepared to request another break? The thought of cold water tickled her desires in the most gentle of places.

Wordless, Kuroko straightened her aching back and turned, prepared to offer her attention to her most beloved. The last she checked, Misaka was nearly across the entire pool. It did not require any to question why she was surprised to find that Misaka had migrated to a more imminent position. Before Kuroko could even voice a word, Misaka took her by even more surprise; she lifted her broom before hurling it into the air, where its handle homed straight for her neighbor.

"Catch," was the simple command that followed. With a desire not to disappoint, Kuroko divorced her own broom handle to rush forth, armed with the intention to marry a new one. Luckily, it landed horizontally in her hands, albeit with a brief struggle. The moment she wrapped her fingers around its thin shaft, Kuroko gazed up for approval. Misaka was not impressed, nor was she disappointed; Kuroko's performance was a product of what was expected. The reward was a simple nod. "Good job. Now, send it back to me."

It also did not require any to question why Kuroko's expression dropped with a darkness of confusion. A part of her wanted to obey Misaka barren of inquiry, but another part of her wondered if the ruthless heat had driven Misaka mad. If the latter was so, obliging her nonsense would only steal time from the important things, such as leading her away from the bullying sun to nurse her back to sanity. Never in the multiple times of cleaning the pool had Misaka spontaneously initiated a game of "catch the broom", nor had she _ever_ initiated a game of "catch the broom" in the first place.

But sanity had not abandoned Misaka's eyes. They were robust like usual, inspiring action. It was a force to which not even Kuroko was immune.

Face contorted, Kuroko too lifted the broom, then tossed it back to Misaka. It was a clean throw that yielded a clean capture, but little did it seem to please her. Misaka grimaced the moment the handle landed in her arms, and she directed that grimace to Kuroko the soonest the opportunity became available.

"No, no, no." She repeated the action, watching as her playmate rushed for the catch. Her fists met her hips when Kuroko's vacationing agility made the broom bounce onto the floor. Kuroko scrambled to correct her mistake by snatching the escapee. "I said _send_ it to me, not throw it."

Kuroko timidly looked up from the broom in her hands.

"But throwing _is_ sending, Sissy."

"Geez, you don't get it," Misaka groaned while laying out her palm and scrunching her greedy fingers a pair of times. "Teleport the broom into my hand." The silence that followed appeared to be cataloged in her expectations, for she did not react to it. Kuroko stood still, doubtfully staring from the distance that separated them. Misaka responded with a huff from her nose. "I know what you're thinking. Go on. I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't think you could."

Kuroko's grip on the broom tightened until her knuckles threatened to exchange their fairness for redness.

"How can you be sure I'm ready?" she asked nervously.

"I just know. Come on, now, we don't have all day."

All of a sudden, every detail became Kuroko's to seize. The distant chirps of newborn birds. The droplets of sweat that slid down her burning face. The breeze that would not touch them thanks to the walls of the pool. The aroma of freshly cut grass. They were mildly pleasant things that would have made her happy had it not been stolen by the present.

If she were to oblige Misaka, she had to shake her head and get to focusing. It had been so long since she used the process, and she wondered if it had to be relearned. Fear washed over her, and it was no gentle tide with cool waters. What if something were to go wrong if she did manage to teleport that silly little broom? Her skill had been so overwhelmed by moss she wondered if her aim would be askew. She feared it would instead hurt her darling. The mere thought of accidentally impaling Misaka with the shaft of that broom... It was a thought far too fearful.

Kuroko shook her head.

"I can't," she murmured, barely loud enough to carry to Misaka's distant ears. The doubt seemed to also be anticipated, for Misaka took awfully well to it. Anger did not suddenly claim her throne, but disappointment did. Her face changed to reflect such, and her eyes gently glossed over her partner.

"I guess all you need is a little encouragement after all," she muttered back while easing closer. Kuroko remained still, even as Misaka crept nearer and nearer. Had she been so ashamed she could not bare the thought of disappointing her further? Just disappointing Misaka once was enough to tear her to shreds.

Upon arrival, Misaka stood tall, looking down at her underling. Kuroko admirably gazed back up, broom still in hand. Inside her eyes swam an odd amount of hesitation, an odd amount of hesitation that was enough to make her viewer's neck hair rise.

"S-Sissy...?" she croaked, but was interrupted when dainty fingers captured her chin to angle her head upwards. Their faces crept closer until their lips met, creating a soft union that did not last long. It departed almost as soon as it arrived, but it left a shade of red that made the sun envious.

As she withdrew, Misaka smiled down at her.

"Can you at least try?"

Shaking, Kuroko blinked.

"Are you going to start doing this every time you want to get your way?" Not that she was complaining...

"Just answer my question."

With a gulp, Kuroko averted her gaze to the ground. The floor of the pool seemed far less interesting and provided a lovely place of escape... for the moment at least. She nodded after what seemed like a long time, but she cleared her throat in the meantime.

"A second one could always help..." She lifted her head, eager for more. What she anticipated was not what she received. Misaka did plant a kiss, but it was on the center of her palm, which she gently slapped against Kuroko's forehead. Indirect, but a kiss nonetheless. Kuroko did not argue as Misaka resurrected their distance.

"Alright, let's try now."

Misaka was correct to assume that a little encouragement set Kuroko straight, for she looked at the situation with a fresh perspective. If Misaka, the experienced Level Five, thought she was capable, who was she to doubt her? The most she could do was try her best, and try her best was what she was going to do.

Her clutch on the shaft of the broom became tight again, and her attention delved in the deepest pits of concentration. It had been long since she had to require herself to close her eyes during such a process, but a fear of unintentional distraction made for an exception. Left alone in darkness, she began to think, mapping all she knew of her surroundings: the pool, Misaka's position, the trees that stood beyond the fences, the bench that awaited their next break.

Where did she want that broom? She wanted that broom in Misaka's palm, smack-dab in the middle of five hungry fingers. She envisioned that broom, splintery shaft, grimy bristles and all, and she guided it to its intended destination. The flow, once again, swam exceptionally smooth, for not once did her thoughts stray to less dire places. She was right on task, start to finish, until that broom was exactly where she wanted.

"Didn't I say you could do it?"

Kuroko's eyes snapped open in surprise, having been yanked out of her trance. Her fingers, against her expectations, were barren, even of the pole of a broom. When her eyes slowly traveled up, she instead found it hiding in the hands of another. Exactly where she wanted it. Gladly, Misaka twirled the piece into the air while growing a grin.

"I..." Kuroko was nearly at a loss for words. "Don't believe it..."

Misaka winked.

"Believe it. You're back, Kuroko."

"Sissy, I'm back!" she exclaimed. Confusion broke into joy before she disappeared. When Misaka found her again, she was plummeting from the sky, aiming for an embrace. _"Oh, Sissy!"_

The attack was fairly easy to avoid if the victim had sharp reflexes. Lucky for Misaka, she barely squeezed into that category, for all she had to do was step to the side. Kuroko landed; not on Misaka, but on the ground. She laid perfectly still, groaning until her friend decided to step in. The back of her head would be made the lesser of a foot, whose sole gently planted itself on top.

"You can thank me, but you know I don't like surprise hugs, Kuroko," she scolded while allowing a spark to thunder frighteningly close to her felled target. Instead of striking her, the stream dispersed across the concrete. "Consider yourself lucky that I'm feeling forgiving today..."

Though she was annoying on occasions, it was a relief to have the old Kuroko return.

For days, Kuroko worked to rebuild the ruins of her old life, and she was making for a swift recovery. This, of course, was with the generous help of Misaka, with whom she practiced during the night by playing another game of "catch". The only difference, however, was that the object being thrown and teleported was a Gekota finger puppet instead of a broom. It wasn't long before the routine restored her ability's speed.

Uiharu took the return with glee, just as Konori. Judgment was not to lose its beloved teleporter. Not yet, in the least. The following week, the new schedule said, would have Kuroko embark on her first patrol in what seemed like forever.

At last. Kuroko finally found the leverage she needed to get herself back on a track of confidence. She wore her skin with pride, kept her head high, and found a smile taking permanent residence upon her lips. No longer was she helpless; she was the helper once again: her rightful occupation.

No longer did she feel unrighteous to hover over Misaka's shoulder in response to an inquiry:

"Hey Kuroko. You're good at math, aren't you? Come help me with this homework."

She loved to press against her back when she peered upon that sheet of paper, resting lifelessly on the surface of Misaka's desk. If luck blessed her, her sly arms flaunted the permission to snake around Misaka's torso and stay.

"Oh, I see what's going on here. See this X? You're supposed to divide it with the X on the opposite side. Always remember: what you do to one side you do to the other..."

One, such as Kuroko, would suppose that all was fine and dandy. The fine and dandiness had brought hefty luggage, for it did not plan to simply visit; it had arrived to stay. Like before, life was to offer simplicity once again.

No more complicated mourning.

No more.

No more...

This confusion. No more, Kuroko wished. She wanted it all to end.

Her bliss was born to live a short life, for a problem, a hawk, swooped in to snatch the kill very soon. Too soon. Clad in the wool of a lamb.

The day started as a day that worked its way to monotony. After school, Kuroko clocked in for work with a casual expression. She passed Uiharu on her way to her desk, but shortly returned once depositing her bag in the heart of a chair. Like the day before, and the day before the day before, Uiharu had her face buried in one of many containers packed with unrelated files. Every once in a while, after perusing through a folder, she would return to a clipboard and scratch a check mark dead in the center of a tiny box.

Hardly amused, Kuroko leaned against the nearest shelf and narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms comfortably in the meantime.

"Call me crazy, but I believe you've been at this chore for nearly a week," she commented.

"That's because I have." Uiharu peeked up from her work, gardened a smile, and playfully wagged her pen toward the girl as if to scold. "Normal people say hello first, you know."

Kuroko sighed.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Hi," she breathed while intruding to steal a better look. "Mind if I ask what this is all about? I thought we just did inventory last month. Konori better not be making you double check."

Uiharu, a multitasker, returned to her work, but had yet to abandon Kuroko and her questioning.

"Yep, she is."

A frown spread across the other's face.

"No way."

"Way."

"What did you do to earn that sort of punishment?"

Again, Uiharu stopped. It seemed to be for an important reason, as she returned her gaze to the girl. However, instead of being friendly like last time, her expression delved deep into the realm of confusion and concern.

"No one told you?"

"About what?" Seldom had Kuroko been oblivious to the affairs of her own branch.

"The break-ins. The building had two intrusions last week, so we have to make sure all our files are still here. Whoever wants our information probably doesn't have any friendly intentions. The sooner we figure out what's missing, if anything, the better."

Break-ins? Last week? Kuroko knew of one, but not the other. Misaka breaking down the door and silencing the alarm in pursuit of her could definitely be considered a break-in, but that was one instance. Who else entered the office after that?

"Is there any information as to who the intruders could have been?" Kuroko inquired with a slight degree of force. However minute the force may have been, Uiharu felt it, and she was compelled to immediately surrender answers.

"Not much. The most we can say is that both break-ins were done by the same culprit. The first night, the door was broken down, so we had it fixed the next day... only for it to be broken down again the following night. The alarm system didn't go off, and all the security cameras were mysteriously disabled. The method was exactly the same both times." Uiharu snickered despite the grim tone of the explanation. "So, we either have a ghost or an esper on our hands. Which do you suppose?"

Kuroko did not laugh.

"Definitely an esper..." she trailed off, eyes wandering elsewhere. Fear began to gather in that gaze.

 _"Sissy, perhaps?"_ she wondered. _"But what reason did she have to come back after finding me that night?"_ A chill rushed up her spine, but she mentally discouraged a second round. _"Whatever the reason, there's no need to be worried about it. This is Sissy. She always has pure-hearted intentions. Uiharu doesn't have to be subject to all this unnecessary work if the intruder didn't have anything malicious planned. I need to let her know."_

Her mouth eased open.

"Uihar-" But she stopped when a bolt of lightening struck her, forcing her into a state of stillness.

The sensations of lips gently clashing against her lips.

A soothing tone tickling the rim of her ear.

 _I need you to promise me this one thing._

 _Promise me you won't tell anyone about what happened tonight. Not Uiharu, not Saten, not Konori, not the teachers at school, not Judgment, not Anti-Skill..._

The fleeting memory alone was enough to leash her tongue and tame it into submission, even as Uiharu glanced back over to her.

"What is it?" she inquired.

She could not see how she had reddened. Her body froze as if it were paralyzed.

 _"Why did you want me to promise that so badly, Sissy? Does it have anything to do with this?"_

Kuroko adored Misaka too greatly to dare breaking such a promise.

"N-Nothing. How about I lend you a hand?" It was the most she could do in exchange for withholding such precious information.

Uiharu's eyes brightened at the offer almost immediately.

"Gee, really? That sounds like a godse-"

"I'm afraid you don't have the time for that, Shirai." From behind, there interrupted a tone. Konori departed from the kitchen, stirring sugar in a cup of freshly brewed tea. Upon arriving at the source of the conversation, she gave Kuroko a gentle gaze. "Still haven't gotten back into the rhythm, I see. You were supposed be out on patrol nearly twenty minutes ago."

The reminder set fire to Kuroko's tail, making her quickly retreat to her desk to snatch her case of needles and a pair of handcuffs resting within a drawer.

"S-Sorry about that, Konori," she murmured in the meantime.

With her back turned to the girl, Konori moved toward Uiharu with the intention to make a checkup.

"I'll let you off the hook this time since you've only been back a week. Just don't expect as much mercy next time." She left Kuroko to the dust by shifting her attention to Uiharu. Left in the background while strapping a belt of needles onto either thigh, Kuroko was deduced to listening to the quiet exchange between the two. "Has everything been okay so far?"

"Just about. Nothing's missing except for the files about Shirai's resignation. As a matter of fact, the entire folder that contained the records of her losing her powers is gone... But I'm pretty sure I last saw them on your desk since you weren't finished making corrections."

"I don't keep those sorts of files at my desk overnight," Konori corrected. "They should've been with all the other files we store."

"W-Well, that's not where it's at..."

No longer could Kuroko play the listener. Having prepared herself for patrol, she peered around the shelf. On one level she set the handcuffs, and the floor became the resting place of her briefcase.

"My files are missing?" she echoed frightfully as she edged closer, hoping to break her way back into the conversation.

Konori simply dismissed her by waving her hand toward the door.

"We have it under control. Get on out there, now."

She wanted to discover more of the details of such a disappearance, but Kuroko had no choice but to comply. With only an obedient nod, she retracted herself, snatched the handle of her briefcase, and rushed out the door.

As one would expect, it was difficult for her to shift into "patrol gear" with such an occurrence fresh on her mind. Her eyes became distant as she meandered along the sidewalk, almost completely mindless. Autopilot only guided her through a traffic of faces, which was not promising. Evening was approaching, which meant that homebound workers were destined to thicken such traffic. In order to catch a suspicious eye, she had to be on the top of her guard...

As soon as all the pieces came together.

 _"A mysterious second break-in and a mysterious disappearance of my files? I'd be a fool to think they aren't related. What would Sissy want with something like that?"_ She allowed her eyes to scan around. As usual, nothing seemed terribly out of the ordinary. _"Or is it possible that an esper with similar abilities was the second visitor? Electric-type espers aren't uncommon. If the latter idea is so, it should give me more reason to be afraid; whoever they are, they wanted my information."_

It was not long before Kuroko came to an awaited pause before a general store, frown deepening as she peered beyond sliding glass doors. She did not plan on going inside, but the newspaper vendor most certainly lured her presence. The front page sat in the display case, shouting about another building that had been destroyed during the night. An ominous photograph of the wreckage sat below a body of details. From what Kuroko could recall, the scene was far worse than its predecessors.

 _"The terrorists don't look like they've left since I went off duty. Another factory got obliterated two nights ago."_ She narrowed her eyes. _"Threats that large are most certainly Anti-Skill's jurisdiction, but I need to offer as much help as I can. Pondering while on duty won't do any good."_

She decided to linger on her issues later as a result, which proved beneficial. Not even an hour later, after wandering through places such as the park and a quaint strip mall, Kuroko happened upon a scene that was ripe for intervention.

A foolish department store clerk had brought a table in front of his building. Upon such a table sat an array of perfumes, all of which he gleefully advertised to the crowd that migrated by. He was fortunate enough to fish out one interested customer, who struck up a conversation with him about his products. The climate was ideal for another, an unsuspecting fellow dressed in a heavy coat, to pass by the table completely unnoticed by the clerk. More importantly, the clerk also missed how the man effortlessly reached toward the nearest bottle and stuffed it inside his pocket in passing.

Though the crowd was oblivious, Kuroko was not. Having seen the entire event unfold, she appeared at the man's side, and her prejudice eyes slowly shifted over to him.

"Petty or not, I don't consider thievery a very noble crime," she sounded, relaxed as always. The man beside her was not quite as relaxed, for he, upon turning to see her armband, broke into a sprint. As he shoved his way from her, she watched, hardly amused. Again, she disappeared, and when she reappeared, it was directly in front of the crook. Simply stretching her leg before his was enough to land him face-first onto the ground, and she effortlessly sealed him by running her fingers along the belt wrapped around her thighs. The contour of his clothes became outlined in needles, and he only struggled for a handful of seconds before giving up.

"Dammit." was the most he could sigh.

"Try to check your surroundings next time." Assuming he _would_ still have the audacity to try again in the future; a few months or a year in prison ought to instill otherwise in his brain. All there was to do now was deliver him to an authority, which would require her to fish out the pair of handcuffs in her pocket...

There were no handcuffs in her pocket.

Her eyes widened when her hand darted to the other one. None in there either. When a realization settled on her shoulders, she bit her lip forcefully. Confound it! She forgot the handcuffs on the shelf back in the office! The job, once effortless, suddenly became harder... And embarrassing. With crimson creeping onto her cheeks, Kuroko's brows furrowed.

"Guess I'll have to call for back up..." she grumbled to herself quietly.

But as she began reaching for the phone in her pocket, something strange happened.

Something that made such a boring day a little more...

Interesting.

Her mind, as if it began to control itself, envisioned those runaway handcuffs. They were quite a ways away, being elsewhere in the city. Down twists and turns of streets, the darkness of sinister alleys. Past the corner store teeming with customers. Past the general store with its newspaper vendor. Up the stairs of a uniform building. They rested on that bookshelf, alone.

But now they were in her palm.

Kuroko froze in horror.

When she looked, she found that familiar piece of justice in her hands, once halfway to her pocket. Just where she wanted them.

She looked up again, scanning her surroundings. Had anyone seen that? Why were they carrying on, minding their own business as though nothing had happened? Something happened, and Kuroko's mind could only return to the persistent dumpster that plagued her dreams.

At last, as that dumpster foresaw, she had been disabused of her notions.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone. Do not worry. I am still alive. Unfortunately, I have turned into a set of lazy bones and haven't gotten much done lately. I'm back on track now... I think. Here's chapter seven. Enjoy.**

* * *

Kuroko was an odd sight when she did not grow weary that evening, for it seemed as if Misaka flipped a switch. Things changed rather quickly.

Fresh from a bath and free from the chains of homework, Kuroko lay sprawled across Misaka's bed, anticipating another night of... Well, sleeping next to Misaka. Weeks shaped the act into an expectation even though it was a privilege. Had she not taken it for granted, she may have not been so disappointed when Misaka emerged from the bathroom as well. While rubbing a towel over her thin auburn hair, Misaka eyed her and frowned.

"You know, stealing half my bed is the only thing that hasn't stopped since things got back to normal. You're not having nightmares anymore, right? Don't you think it's time you started sleeping in your own bed again?"

What a stupid question for Misaka to ask Kuroko. A shake of the head was almost mandatory.

"Could it be? Have the thrilling coals of defenselessly resting in the company of your vanguard grown cold?" Kuroko inquired, expression broken. Immediately, Misaka too shook her head.

"It's not so much about that..." she murmured, drawing nearer to the bed. After studying the glossy hardwood floor, her hands stopped applying the towel on her head. "...Like I said, this is the last thing that hasn't gone back to normal. That was the point of all this: restoring normalcy. Now that your powers have returned, everything is okay."

Normalcy? If Kuroko was not mistaken, Misaka pushed for creating a new life while her powers took absence, not restoring normalcy. Hitting the arcade on Thursdays; reading manga on Mondays and Wednesdays; grabbing something to eat on Fridays. None of such was normal, and yet Misaka endorsed each.

The return of Kuroko's power must have renewed a desire to rebuild the ruins of their old life. Stability had already settled, so all they needed was a roof.

Surely...

Surely...

...Surely?

A strange fog entered Misaka's pupils. Kuroko had seen that look before: the deadly concoction of desperation and sadness. A deadly concoction that, no matter the size, could always be spotted. The same look that spread across her face one particular night in the Judgment office. The same look she had delivered to her lips.

"I-I guess that makes sense..." Kuroko agreed, but her word was stripped of merit. As she started the climb off the bed, she released a sigh. "Just don't be surprised if I started asking for the privilege more often. You've spoiled me now, don't you know?"

"It's a small price to pay in exchange for putting this whole ordeal behind us."

"Yeah. Let's put it behind us..." her voice replied thickly. She arrived at the light switch after a brief venture, and she quickly sold the room to darkness, save for the ray of moon creeping through the thin material of the curtains. Kuroko disappeared, but not for long, for she reappeared upon her own bed. While constructing a comfortable nest of blankets and pillows, both remained quiet.

But not for long.

"Mm..." Misaka sighed once she plopped down on her pillow. A hard day of work granted her utmost comfort. While rolling onto her side to face the wall, her mouth gaped for a yawn. "See you in the morning..."

Kuroko was not as exhausted, for she remained upright, slouching and maintaining a heavy gaze. She too gardened a certain cloud of fog in her eyes, but it was not of desperation and sadness. Instead there bubbled prejudice she reserved only for criminals destined to become her enemy.

"Is that the reason you stole those files in the office, Sissy? To erase this entire fiasco and put things back to normal?"

Things would never go back to normal, would they?

Misaka only rustled a little.

"Hm?"

"The files. You broke into the office a second time to take them, didn't you?"

"What files?"

"My files."

"What about your files?"

"Why did you take them?"

"I didn't take them. Why would I take them?"

Eyes narrowing, Kuroko allowed her back to meet the bed. Her long hair sprawled across the pillow. For an unknown reason, it felt harder than most nights. Unwelcoming, she'd go far enough to say.

"That was what I was wanting to know."

It was clear that Misaka would not spill a single bean. Kuroko should not have been surprised; after all, it was Misaka that happened to be the most hard-headed person she had ever met, and it was no understatement. However, never in Kuroko's wildest dreams had she thought that hard-headedness would someday come against her. The disappointment, and confusion, did not warrant sleep for many agonizing hours. Only when the clock struck two in the morning did she finally drift to sleep, unaware of all that conspired within her six.

In one such direction was the rousing of Misaka, who cautiously rose to sit. With the hem of the comforter bunched in her fists, she turned her gaze to the neighboring bed, observing the motionlessness of its occupant. She cleared her throat softly.

"Hey... Kuroko..." she whispered. "Are you still awake?"

No answer.

Just as she desired.

But no smiles came about Misaka's face as she began ridding the covers from her legs. No smiles came about Misaka's face as she collected her bedmate, Kill Bear. Her toes silently spread across the hardwood floor, wordless as she eased near the lump occupying the neighboring bed. A peek over Kuroko's shoulders allowed Misaka to hear the faint youth of snores, which was sure sign of slumber, no doubt. Soon, Kuroko would begin dreaming of heaven knows what. She would be so lost in her own world, a prairie of visions, good or bad, that would rob her awareness of Misaka's disappearance.

The window, the one never opened during the nighttime, opened.

Dressed in the armor of her Gekota pajamas and accompanied by Kill Bear, her shadow ominously roamed the emptied campus. As she walked, thin strings of blue ejected from her skull and mercilessly decommissioned mechanical eyes. She had long learned their each and every position, having become their enemy in the past. Every corner. Every nook. Every concave. Every convex.

The forces of a strong wind startled her, whipping her freshly-brushed hair into a tangled nest. Albeit annoyed by nature's treatment, she continued onward.

After all, it was very important that she was not late.

A figure, almost unnoticed, awaited her within the heart of the courtyard's gazebo. Had the moon not been generous enough to provide the light required to create a silhouette, it was likely the shadow would have been missed entirely. As threatening and malicious a lone specter seemed, Misaka went out of her way to meet it.

Her feet, barren of protection, crept along the gravel of a pathway. Small rocks jammed themselves between her small toes, whose muscles she had not the talent to move. The rocks were the least of her worries anyhow; what truly captured her attention were the subtle taps that sounded against the ground and her person: droplets of water. A distant, but muted, rumble set her in a state of unease.

Her clutch on Kill Bear tightened once arriving beneath the shelter of the pure white gazebo. What once was white had been painted black by the wicked night.

"Some lovely weather we have ourselves, wouldn't you agree?" inquired the shadow from the opposite side of the edifice. Every decibel of its voice, undoubtably female, dripped with sarcasm. She knew Misaka knew this. She knew everything. "I'm quite certain the thunder would awaken Miss Shirai if it got any louder. Wouldn't it be a better idea to head back to your room before that sort of thing happens? A natural born, justice loving, investigator, that girl. If she woke up to find you gone, my money says it wouldn't be long before she bloodhounds us down."

"This won't take long," Misaka assured while setting her stuffed bear on an innocent table.

The shadow stood stiff for a moment, listening as the sky roared a few times more. The sounds bored her quickly, so she took to watching as Misaka attempted to gently undo the stitches sealing Kill Bear's torn neck. After an unwanted amount of difficulty, a hand reached into the shadow's purse to withdraw a small torch which, once turning it on, shined on Misaka. The sudden burst of light made Misaka hiss and unveil a harsh eye at the wielder.

"Turn that off! People'll see us!"

"Hmph. Sorry for trying to help, Railgun," she huffed snobbishly in harmony with the clicking of the light. A curt snicker followed. "Nice pajamas by the way."

After growling, Misaka finally tore the string away, decapitating her poor bear. Despite its evident suffering, she did nothing to help remedy the pain. Instead, she made the wounds all the more grievous by burying her hands into its cottony guts. Fingers fished until they emerged with a certain article: a packet of copy papers clamped together by a binder clip. They seemed unimportant, but, judging by the way Misaka clung to them, it was a mistaken notion.

"Do I need to recap everything I explained the other day?" Misaka asked. The answer to her question most likely leaned towards the affirmative. She knew her neighbor well enough to make proper assumptions.

"I didn't listen to much of what I was told. The most I heard was that you were interested in paying. It was enough to capture my interest, and I figured you'd get to all the nutty details later."

"Figures. Guess I'll have to get used to being a broken record around you." Misaka slapped the packet onto the table, which the shadow observed by rekindling the flashlight. For fear of being spotted by an undesired spectator, her scan of the papers was brief, as it would allow her to kill the light much sooner. To her luck, the subject was simple enough to grasp within such a limited timespan. One of her mischievous brows lifted almost immediately.

"These look like some confidential documents, Railgun. How'd you manage to legally get your hands on these?" She edged closer. "Or were your means legal at all?"

Misaka huffed.

"That's not the part that matters. All I want is for you to make sure that everyone who knows about this incident, with the exception of myself, doesn't remember a thing about it."

"Everyone, you say?"

"Except me."

"Even little Miss Shirai herself?"

A nerve was struck. How evident it was by the existence of silence, long as it was uncomfortable. It was a question Misaka should have seen coming, and yet she miserably failed to prepare. Frowning, she resorted to a labored sigh. Even when her lungs could surrender no air more, she persisted to huff.

"Both options break my heart."

The last thing Misaka wanted after masking such a painful transaction, and decision, was to encounter the very source of the pain.

Having left the files to her shadowy cohort, Misaka disposed her person of a decapitated Kill Bear by dropping him off at the school's furnace. She carried no sewing tools to give him his life-saving stitches, and returning him to the dorm would surely attract unwanted suspicions from a certain roommate of hers. She had no choice but to abandon him, hoping to eventually retrieve him the following day. Should she be tardy, he will be mistaken for trash and burned. Tragic, but at least the heartache would rid her of evidence destined to lead to greater heartache. After all, her rendezvous spoke the truth: Kuroko _was_ a natural born, justice loving, investigator. Even the slightest scrap of evidence could become the fountainhead of an unwanted discovery. Evidence was something Misaka came to despise, at least around her.

Kuroko...

She was the source of the pain.

Misaka returned to the dorm, quiet as a mouse. Luck had her return shortly after the storm reached its glory in which simple droplets clustered into behemoths that threatened every awaiting fool. The noise of the storm masked the sounds she wanted masked, such as the uncontrollable squeak that was the window opening, or the grunts she made while ascending towards her entrance. Without issue, she arrived within her sanctuary, cautious as she led the window back to its rightful place.

A momentary check up on Kuroko's bed displayed a sight akin to that she saw before leaving: a resting lump beneath the covers. With her shoulders relaxing, Misaka smiled, and a gentle stream of air flowed out of her nostrils.

But her content was too soon, for a while after she set herself down to rest, she felt the arrival of a visitor. A weight spread across her bed. The weight, that of another body, sandwiched itself between she and the wall. There was no way her visitor could have gotten to such a position so soundlessly, so easily unless it were a spirit, a specter...

...Or a teleporter,

"Off doing business again, Sissy?" asked her brand new bedmate.

Keeping her back turned, Misaka allowed staleness to sweep over her face.

"You know me," she retorted, voice thick. "Railgun's always busy."

A few fingers suddenly dashed through the tips of her auburn hair. They were loving, kind fingers, never meaning any harm, and yet Misaka did not like the way they felt. No choice lingered within her but to simply let the act come and simply let the act pass.

"You must have been taking a midnight stroll before the storm caught you. I can't think of any other reason that would explain why your hair is still wet," she added. Each breath seemed heavier than the last. "Bring that bear with you too? It seems to have disappeared."

Never had she found a bloom in the talent in lying. Because she knew she would be found out, Misaka had no choice but to simply tell the truth.

"Yeah."

"Taking a walk with a stuffed bear... It's a peculiar habit for a sophisticated girl your age to adopt, but I still love you in spite of your shortcomings." Kuroko's tone hardened not long after she finished. "Care to tell me where you went at such an hour?"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"Is that so? I certainly wish you would tell me in that case. But it really is a big deal, isn't it? That's why you insist upon keeping it a secret."

A gentle vibration that rumbled around Misaka's form evolved into a steady quake. The crackling of youthful sparks lit the darkness of the room. With static hanging in the air from the storm, even the slightest disturbance couldn't be missed. Nonetheless, Kuroko did not budge.

"Just go back to your bed and get to sleep. We have school in a few hours." Misaka demanded grumpily.

"We all want things we just can't get, don't we? A trade is always negotiable." When silence became her response, Kuroko sighed, then turned her back to her bedmate. She traced the tips of her fingers along the coolness of the wall, never daring to let them wander to the contour of her neighbor. "No deal, I see. So be it, Sissy. Good night."

Misaka did not answer, and they did not exchange anything more for the rest of the night. When morning arrived, even with the rain continuing with its fit, Misaka was the first to rouse. Sleep had not blessed her, as made apparent by the violet hanging beneath her eyes. After dressing, she left the dorm early. This was under the pretense that she planned to attend early tutoring classes, but both knew it was merely an excuse to unravel distance.

Moments after Misaka's departure, Kuroko rose from the bed, groggy as well. She gave the door a prejudice gaze, but only for a short time before her attention became captured by dressing as well. Once geared for the day, she too took an early leave from the dorm, but not to persistently follow after her suspicious roommate. Instead, she paid a visit to the campus' library, whose doors had freshly opened.

Approaching semester exams had many tables occupied, even so early in the morning. Being hardly dispirited by such a fast approaching train, even when gobbling up tracks at an indecent speed, Kuroko did not feel compelled to join the crowd. Instead, she buried herself within the tallest, and oldest, bookshelves that hid within the endlessness of aisles. Forgotten records that had not been touched for years, with the exception of librarians during inventory, dwelled in such an isolated environment. With none to disturb her, Kuroko had little trouble scouting for what she wanted.

Let's see here...

Rampage Dress,

Shock Absorber,

Skill Polygraph,

Telekinesis...

Her eyes widened once happening upon a tasteful discovery: a plain, white binder whose spine bore the label "Teleport". She promptly segregated it from its clique and made movements to disappear with it. If she had watched where she was going, she would not have run into the body that awaited her beyond the corner of the bookshelf. Upon clashing with the visitor, whose very existence in such a section of the library was a mystery, Kuroko released a grunt, furrowed her brows, and grit her teeth.

"Hey! Don't stand in the midd-"

But she couldn't help but freeze the moment she realized to whom it was she spoke. Her tongue, once prepared by the whetstone of annoyance, dulled with humility, perhaps even a pinch of fear. Before her stood a somewhat tall girl, no elder than her dear Misaka. Long, golden hair, straightened with perfection (but also buffeted by some frizz, courtesy of the inconvenient weather), flowed from her crown, and her starry eyes gazed confidently down at her. With the binder pressed against her chest, Kuroko gently attempted to ease away.

"O-Oh... Excuse me, I uh..." she began correcting herself. "...I didn't know-"

"Who you were talking to? Honestly, what does it matter if I'm me or someone else? This part of the library is so underpopulated you can't blame someone for not minding their manners."

"You're absolutely right. Now if you'll let me go my own way..."

The girl watched Kuroko only gain a little distance before calling back to her. Her tone, of course, was quiet, seeing that they stood in the midst of a library.

"Why the rush, Miss Shirai?"

Kuroko did not recall ever knowing the girl intimately enough to share her name. The only reason Kuroko knew of her was because of her status. At Tokiwadai, it was more rare to find a girl that did not know this certain blonde than a girl who did.

"Business, obviously. I'm interested in doing a little research before class starts."

"Oh? Research you say?" the girl echoed, trotting to Kuroko's side. "On what? As your upperclassman, I might be able to give you some pointers for some of the classes you're struggling in."

"It isn't for school, mind you." Kuroko increased her speed. "It's just personal curiosity."

"Hm..." the blonde replied, nosily eyeing down to the spine of the binder. Almost immediately, a particularly sinister expression spread across her lips. It only lasted a second, far too quick for Kuroko to catch. "You've found yourself one of the campus' manuals on special-movement type esper abilities. I'm sorry to break it to you, but your new ability won't be found in there. However, I do commend your dedication to getting to the bottom of your little mystery."

Again, Kuroko froze, eyes widening. Said eyes darted to the face of her follower, who stopped as well. She did not know whether to feel frightened or infuriated, as both would eventually produce results she did not like. Her best option was constructing a facade that hid each tidal emotion that washed over her.

"I can see the rumors are true now that I've met you in person, Miss Misaki Shokuhou. Or do you prefer to go by your nickname, Mental Out?" Kuroko inquired, face stale.

Misaki responded with a shy giggle.

"Names? How about _Your Majesty,_ since they also call me the Queen of Tokiwadai?"

"That one's out of the question, I'm afraid. I'm quite aware of which _faction_ I happen to occupy in this... Shall we call it a popularity contest?"

Shrugging, Misaki shook her head slowly.

"Well, once you're on a side, you're on a side. It would be a shame if someone made you..." She gave her a sly eye. "...Change your mind." What surprised her, however, was the fact that Kuroko did not edge away from her as she suspected. Kuroko remained still, gaze hard as it remained upon her. The challenge, the tension, the sincerity within such a glare revived a long dormant excitement that filled Misaki's face. "Oh? Not frightened?"

"At the moment, no," Kuroko responded tastelessly. "I'd rather know what you want from me. You have my attention."

Misaki responded with another group of mingling chuckles, and she stroked the top of Kuroko's head in the meantime. With a hand coyly hiding the smile on her lips, she narrowed her playful eyes.

"My, my, so professional. Your mind and speech don't share terribly much in common."

"Stop with the fluff and get to the point! What do you want?"

"Well, since I happened to run into you in such a lonely place, I do remember a small favor I needed to ask of you... Care to oblige?"

"Once I know what it is."

"Of course! Of course!" Misaki fanned her hand before her face. "Miss Shirai, I'd _love_ a small list from you."

"Of?"

"A list of people you know have been made aware of your latest incidents. You know, like how you lost your powers, how you ran into that strange man in the night, how you got super-duper sick... And your latest revelation, but I know you haven't told anybody about _that_."

As expected, Kuroko returned the request with hostility, as shown by the feral intensity in the caramel of her eyes.

"Don't try to play me for a fool. If you wanted that sort of information out of me, you could've easily gone snooping through my mind for it. Based off of what you just told me, you're not completely below that. What do you _really_ want?"

Misaki looked worried, but a piece of the puzzle threw the image completely askew. Perhaps it was the lack of sincerity in the ever-present smile upon her lips, even despite the drop of her brows.

"But what if I'm refraining from using my powers on you? What if I value the crop of legitimate trust and honesty?"

"I have plenty of arguments to the contrary."

"Oh? Could it be that you're promoting a different method of obtaining information? You don't seem too fond of my Plan B, and it's lucky your sweet Railgun makes me think twice about deploying it on you."

Their stand off led to an intermission which consisted of Kuroko thoughtlessly abandoning the binder on an alien shelf, leaving it to rest amongst its brethren. When she returned to the situation, Kuroko harbored a deep, arching frown that could not be cured by much. Misaka may be reliable for a remedy, but with the state they had been in since a few hours beforehand, one could reasonably question the effectiveness.

"If this is amounting to some sort of blackmail, I assure you that I don't handle grudges well," she warned, shoulders stiffening.

Weightless, Misaki shook her head.

"No, no. I only blackmail when I have to. You seem to be of the more cooperative type. Would it make you feel more comfortable if I told you that I want this information for Railgun's sake?"

Kuroko scoffed.

"Now I _know_ you think I'm an idiot. I may be a bit overzealous in regards to Sissy, but that doesn't mean I'll blindly trust someone's word about her." While crossing her arms, her foot gave the hardwood floor one judgmental tap. "Honestly, you think I'd do what you say just because you said it's what she wants? Last I checked, you two aren't the most buddy-buddy either, so I don't know why Sissy would confide in you in the first place. There's obviously a more reliable person she can lean on, and her name is Kuroko Shirai: defender and soon-to-be lover of the all-powerful Railgun of Tokiwadai. Sissy knows that she doesn't have to ask some shady rival of hers for a favor when she's got me. I'll listen to her troubles any day or run to the Americas and back. Whatever Sissy asks of me, I shall carry out, no matter the..."

Misaki didn't listen to much of what Kuroko babbled on about, as she was too busy digging in the depths of her purse. Two articles within that bag had the power to shut Kuroko up. Believing the article for which Misaki homed would be a threatening remote control, Kuroko paused and started backing away again, mouth gaping.

However, the blonde simply withdrew a packet of papers. The green emblem of a shield plastered across the heading of the front page captured the onlooker's eye far quicker than anything else. Kuroko stopped and, intrigued, eased closer until she reached reading distance. Misaki graciously allowed her to take the papers. After a brief read, she returned to Misaki, eyes widened once more.

"...These are... My papers from Judgment." Confusion incinerated to prejudice quickly. "How'd you get these? If you were the one who broke into the office while..." Her voice toned down, sentence trailing as she watched Misaki steadily wag her finger back and forth.

"You know who got those papers, Miss Shirai," Misaki corrected, "and they were passed to me shortly after she acquired them. Still don't believe Railgun requested this?"

At a loss for words, Kuroko's grip on the papers tightened.

"But I... I don't understand why she'd..."

"I know, I know. Reality hurts, doesn't it? Don't worry. She's doing this all for you, and I'm certain she'll discuss it sooner or later. Until that day comes, you just need to hang tight, listen, and obey. Mmkay?"

Albeit begrudgingly, Kuroko chose to heed her advice.


	8. Chapter 8

_Misaka huffed._

 _"That's not the part that matters. All I want is for you to make sure that everyone who knows about this incident, with the exception of myself, doesn't remember a thing about it."_

 _"Everyone, you say?"_

 _"Except me."_

 _"Even little Miss Shirai herself?"_

 _A nerve was struck. How evident it was by the existence of silence, long as it was uncomfortable. Hers was a question Misaka should have seen coming, and yet she failed to prepare. Frowning, she resorted to a labored sigh. Even when her lungs could surrender no air more, she persisted to huff._

 _Her answer had long been ingrained in her head, but once delivery time arrived, she fell silent. Her reluctant eyes darted aside, hoping to catch a fleeting escape._

 _"...Yeah. Including Kuroko."_

 _"That's harsh," responded the voice, feigning a tone of pity. "I understand you're just trying to protect her by doing this, but I wonder if it will do the good you're hoping for. She really loves you, don't you know? The more you continue to deny her the permission to help, the more it's going to tear her apart. Soon enough the concern will push her to stick her nose somewhere it doesn't belong... Alone, at least. It happened once and it can happen again."_

 _A spark briefly lit the darkness between them, granting only a split second of vision. What could be seen of Misaka's expression for that short of a time was best described as uncomfortable fury._

 _"A place she doesn't belong? Like this business? They're already starting to come after her, and if you want to know how close she is to getting completely swept up into this mess, I can certainly tell you th-"_

 _"That she's overcome the threshold fever? No need to say it; Miss Shirai's had that night on her mind quite a bit." Another snide noise exited her lips, especially as Misaka's cheeks reddened. "Chased by a mysterious criminal, became deathly sick, and kissed by Mikoto Misaka all in one night? That's an awful lot to simply brush off."_

 _Dazed, Misaka froze. Of course Kuroko lingered on that confounded kiss, no surprise there, but why would she linger on it knowing a telepathic esper roamed the campus? Fainting from embarrassment felt mighty tempting all of a sudden. Nonetheless, Misaka maintained a strong composure and attempted to brush the weighty comment off her shoulders._

 _"Geez, you really do read everyone's minds on a consistent basis. Ever heard of personal space?" She scoffed and turned her head elsewhere. "Never mind. At least it saves me some breath. Since you already know she's overcome the threshold fever, I can't see why you're arguing with me. With that stage out of the way, it won't be long until she starts realizing her powers have evolved." She froze, waiting for a comment. It did not come, and the conversation remained stagnant for too long. With stiffening muscles, Misaka's eyes slowly widened. Her tone, once firm in opposition, softened for submission. "You've become quiet. You know something, don't you?"_

 _The shadow gently nodded._

 _"She's figured that out sooner than you anticipated. Hers has become a power worth reckoning."_

 _In reaction to a burn that engulfed her chest, Misaka's eyes widened._

 _"How long has it been like this?"_

 _"No more than a couple of days."_

 _"And she didn't even bother to tell me..." Misaka captured her forehead into her palm. Her nails angrily buried themselves into her flesh._

 _"No need to worry, she hasn't told anyone at all. Well, except me; indirectly, of course," the neighbor singsonged. Her chipper voice dropped on a dime. "So. How's it feel to be concerned for someone who won't let you in?"_

 _"Don't try to paint me into a hypocrite!" Misaka boomed with the thunder. The lightening that flashed belonged to the sky, however; not her. "I'm trying to protect her! Kuroko loves this city! She loves it enough to dedicate her time and wellbeing to protect it. The truth of Academy City, how its purpose is to commit atrocities against innocent people, would destroy her." Slowly, her frustration died. The threat of its return yet lingered. "I saw a depressed Kuroko once, and I never want to see it again."_

 _The shadow ebbed closer._

 _"I don't think she would be as depressed as you think. She has you to confide in, after all. Unlike you, she wouldn't push a helping hand out of the way. The whole reason desperately trying to save your Sisters led to your depression was because you were all alone, facing against a force that was more than you could handle. No matter how many times someone reached out to you, you never let them get involved. You were essentially digging your own grave." She sighed. "Besides, Shirai will find out about this behind the scenes stuff sooner or later. I think it would be best if she were brought aboard soon, and it wouldn't just be for her own good. You'll slip up eventually, Railgun, so you need someone who'll be there to break your fall. I can't think of anyone more qualified for the job than the girl who practically worships you."_

 _"You think? Since when did you care about what happens to me?"_

 _"Oh dear, I always care about my friends. That's why I won't comply to this deal... Without that exception I made, of course. If you don't want to agree to that, I wish you luck in finding another way to accomplish your goals."_

 _The thunder took a turn to speak, even though it spoke over them the entire time. It was not who obviously irritated Misaka, for it wasn't who received the papers from her forceful hands._

 _"Damn you," she growled before turning to reclaim Kill Bear. "Just do what you think you have to. All I want is for this whole ordeal to be buried down a deep, deep hole no scientist can dig up."_

 _The shadow watched as Misaka began to walk away from the gazebo, but a pause was bought with nothing more than a clear of her throat._

 _"I wouldn't think Judgment is the only one who documented this event." She wiggled the newly acquired papers in her hands. "Even if I did track everyone down and wipe their memory, there are still physical records all over the city. I can't do anything about those. There are observations the school counselor took when Shirai had an appointment, and I wouldn't be surprised if copies have spread. Those would ruin whatever work I've done once they're inevitably rediscovered."_

 _Misaka continued walking. Looking back did not seem to be worthy of her time._

 _"That'll be something I take care of. Good night."_

* * *

"Ow... My back..." he groaned, having been freshly knocked to the ground face-first. Frowning, Kuroko lightly stepped off of him, sure to avoid the puddle that settled in the neighboring asphalt.

"Try not running from me the next time you're stopped. Your back will thank you," she suggested while approaching his face. Her caramel eyes, grim, gazed down at him. She remained quiet until he stopped grunting and moving. Only when he ceased to resist did she retrieve the handcuffs from her pocket, and they quickly went towards where they belonged...

...Right before the perpetrator bounced up and smacked her square in the jaw. The impact certainly hurt, but not enough to daze her. The man, who began running down the alley once more, did not escape her vision, nor attention. After a discouraged groan, and a brief session of mothering her cheek, she tore after him.

Such a chase was nothing new. She had seen it many times before, so much so that she could successfully make predictions based off patterns that emerged in the past. This man would likely put up a good run for a while, but the moment he ran out of alley, he would be forced to delve into the public. She would catch him there, as many factors would slow him.

She decided to toy with the mundane situation.

The handcuffs she teleported last week would testify to a likely theory: by some stroke of luck, perhaps a miracle, no longer did she have to be touching something to send it elsewhere. Like the handcuffs, she could summon an article to whichever place she pleased. Had she become something to the likes of that lass that impaled her with a corkscrew? Whatever the case, she could speculate later, as now was a prime opportunity to experiment.

Disappointment became a more common trend, however, for whatever ideas she had would prove no structure. A thought of a bus parked in some sort of yard came to mind. It was of no bus in particular, in no yard in particular, but she was sure there was one out there... Somewhere... There was no denying, though, that a bus would prove useful for her goal. She could teleport it right in front of the man, clogging the alleyway. No room would be left for him to escape unless he could sprout wings and take flight!

No buses came to her aid, unfortunately. Discouraged, Kuroko found herself having to catch up, but a few teleports forward became a quick fix. She found more time to continue brainstorming.

 _"It would seem that I can't just think of things to beam into the air,"_ she thought to herself. _"Disappointing, but I suppose that wouldn't be teleportation as much as it would be omnificence. Maybe I should be thinking of things I know exist for certain. After all, if this new power is an extension of my old one, that would only make sense..."_ Kuroko, like most people, knew of many things that existed. So suddenly, however, now that she was put under the spotlight, it became difficult to think of a single thing. In an attempt to patch the issue quickly, she chose to concentrate on one of the many dumpsters that watched her pass. A dumpster would be ideal for clogging an alleyway, akin to a bus, and since she had teleported one before, it was logical to conclude she could perform an encore.

Not a single blasted trash can moved either.

 _"So much for that too. Fine then; I want Sissy right here, right now. I imagine she'd be impressed if I teleported her remotely, and taking this crook down with her would be a cinch. Then, afterwards, we'll pay a trip to Joseph's and I'll buy her a lime soda and she'll swoon and swoon and swoon! She'll tell me, oh Kuroko, I'm so impressed with your talents. Show me what other things you're capable of doing!"_

As wonderful as such a thought was (to her), Misaka did not appear.

On the verge of giving up, Kuroko heaved a sigh and started grasping for the lowest hanging fruit. If nothing complicated came to her aid, she wondered if something simple would. Her mind wandered around her room back in the dormitory, looking for any article of interest. The chair resting before her desk came into vision, capturing her attention to an abnormal degree. She remembered bumping into that chair that morning while brushing her hair, which would explain why it would even be remembered in the first place. A chair would certainly alarm the fellow if it were to suddenly appear over his head and give him a good smack.

Wouldn't that be funny...

It happened.

Kuroko was far too busy dealing with bewilderment to possibly laugh.

Just as she wanted, the wooden chair spontaneously appeared in the air and immediately descended, landing directly onto her rushing criminal. The impact packed enough force to land him on the ground once again, where the chair dropped to his side. While slowing her sprint, Kuroko trotted to his side and listened as the man released another groan.

"Mm... What... What the hell?" he grumbled while eyeing the weapon that felled him. While reclaiming the cuffs in her pocket, Kuroko raised a brow.

"Excellent question."

Had she figured it out at last? The secret to utilizing this strange new ability? She did linger upon such for quite a while after delivering the convict to a proper authority. Once returning to her patrol, she kept her eyes on the ground- a forbidden action for Judgment officers, as it would censor surrounding activities. Too deep in thought was she to bother caring, otherwise she would have corrected herself quickly.

 _"The bus was a no-show, which would mean I have to be specific in choosing my target. That certainly doesn't explain why I couldn't teleport the dumpster or Sissy, though. I knew both existed and yet I could do nothing with them... But the chair, I could. What's so special about that chair..."_

A sidewalk cafe caught her eye.

There were chairs there, and people were sitting on them. In the name of investigation, she went out of her way to teleport beyond the small fence that marked the cafe's territory. Many did not mind her, as they were much too busy chatting with fellow diners. There was nothing terribly abnormal about Kuroko anyhow. She was just a Judgment girl on her patrol. There stood no reason for them to pay her any mind...

...Until she began inspecting the chairs.

They were somewhat heavy for chairs, being made from cast-iron. All had been painted white to emit a clean aura. Some coats of paint were fresh, but others had been assaulted by the elements enough to begin shedding the chips found scattered around the pavement. Kuroko made sure to check both species by grabbing the back and sending it a little ways from her. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, for both chairs teleported from her grasp perfectly well. She had to admit: if the evolution of her abilities specialized exclusively in chairs, she would experience utmost disappointment.

A waiter, presumably belonging to the cafe, approached her when many eyes started to take notice.

"Might I help you, officer?" he inquired. He seemed professional, but a part of him obviously could not withhold casual curiosity. Kuroko's frown steepened, for she had not planned an explanation for her behavior in advance. While turning to the waiter, she cleared her throat.

"Not really. I'm only observing these." Even she could not deny that she was acting strange.

"Is something the matter with these chairs? I do recall an incident of a criminal making weapons out of objects containing aluminum, so is there need for concern?"

She was getting nowhere, looking at random chairs in the street. After coming to such a conclusion, Kuroko shook her head again and began taking her leave.

"All is well, sir. Take care."

And she was back to square one... Not that she had climbed to a height so great the plummet caused her harm. Neutrally, her eyes returned to the ground, and her thoughts began to roam again. Every possibility danced across her head, but nothing prevailed. Once or twice she attempted to summon another object, be it living or inanimate, only to have her disappointed for the umpteenth time.

A shoulder ramming into hers yanked her out of her trance. Stone-faced, she turned to meet the reckless walker, prepared to project a comeback. As an officer, she would never know if someone touched her to make conflict or by mere accident. Preparation never hurt.

It was unnecessary at the moment, for her perpetrator turned out to be a schoolgirl no elder than she. Clutching her book bag tightly, the girl stared her down with fright, as if anticipating a storm of malice to rain her way. When Kuroko observed the girl's clothing, an ordinary uniform outfitted for the most average of schools, her cold face relaxed.

"S-Sorry, officer," the girl whimpered.

An accident was all it was. No conflict was bound to arise...

"No need to worry," Kuroko sighed while giving the girl's shoulder a pair of gentle pats. "Just be safe and watch where you're going." Who was Kuroko to talk about watching where one was going- especially when she had her eyes glued to the pavement for the past half-hour? While carrying on with her business, she scornfully considered sucking her pride and returning to the girl to admit her own fault.

Until it dawned on her.

 _"Touch... Could that be a factor?"_ She peeked over her shoulder, where the girl was steadily disappearing into a crowd of afternoon traffic. _"And the knowledge of my target's exact location..."_

She pictured it in her mind: the girl was making her distance from Kuroko. Instead, she willed that the girl was walking directly in front of her.

There she appeared, continuing onward as though she were still delving into the traffic. Having been under the impression that nothing stood in her way just seconds ago, she collided with Kuroko again. Like last time, she released a flabbergasted howl.

"A-Ah! Not again!"

How could Kuroko possibly be upset when she finally solved a puzzle?

"Oh! No need to worry again. I called you back here for the sake of... Um... To say it was my fault you ran into me a moment ago. Sorry to give you the trouble."

She did not care what the girl did; she was far too fixated on her latest, and most miraculous, discovery.

After her patrol, Kuroko returned to the office with a bright expression. Uiharu was bound to take notice and ask for reasons, and Kuroko was prepared to show off some smoking answers...

Until Misaka came to mind.

Then Kuroko became concerned.

Kuroko chose to valiantly uphold the promise Misaka purchased with a kiss. Her mouth was to be glued shut and never speak of that one night, seemingly ages ago, that sent her into a spiral of illness. Of a man she did not know that chased her through an alley infested with darkness. Of how that same man was now a dead man, having been crushed by a dumpster Kuroko did not know she could summon.

If she teleported the dumpster that night, it mingled with the details she was not to unveil. Was the entire extension of her abilities destined to abide by the same terms? Because she did not wish to disappoint Misaka, Kuroko decided to stay on the safe side of the fence. Not a peep came to Uiharu, who welcomed her return with the seemingly mandatory:

"How was the shift?"

She replied with the seemingly mandatory:

"Nothing worthy of interest happened. Just work as usual."

It was for good that Kuroko came about this revelation, as she would need it in little time in the future. Later, in the evening, Uiharu requested Kuroko's company before departing from the office, having still been unnerved by the increase of crime in her neighborhood. A good friend, Kuroko complied as usual.

Teleportation had made the journey across the city a breeze. What not was a breeze was the innocent comment Uiharu made once they arrived at her apartment complex.

"Thanks again for the trouble, Shirai. You know, I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be able to teleport a bit longer of a distance than usual. Been practicing hard lately?"

Having been caught off guard, Kuroko reddened, and her eyes widened to a frightened diameter.

"U-Um... Of course. After thinking my powers were gone forever, I realize how much I take them for granted. Since then, I've made an effort to push myself harder. You know... To make sure something like that never happens again."

Uiharu smiled.

"That's a good idea. So long as you don't overwork yourself, that is. Keeping up that sort of pace'll make you a Level Five in no time, and then I can say I'm friends with two!"

"Right... Level Five... Yeah..." Kuroko's eyes awkwardly wandered to a safer place.

 _"Sissy doesn't seem to think that's a good idea. But now, after my latest discovery... Does it matter what either of us want?"_

"I'll see you tomorrow, then. Be careful on your way back to your dorm." Uiharu kindly bid her goodnights and left Kuroko alone in the hallway, deep in thought. For a while, she did not take her leave from the door. When she did, her brows were furrowed, and her teeth anxiously grazed along her bottom lip.

 _"And away goes the euphoria. This ordeal may not be such a great thing after all."_ She checked her surroundings before saving herself from having to descend a flight of burdensome stairs. _"There's no doubt in my mind that remote teleportation, at least of this caliber, steps into Level Five territory. There had to be a good reason Sissy told me that I should remain a Level Four. There has to be, otherwise she'd encourage me the best she could. What sort of secrets are revealed to those considered Level Five? The ones she wants to make sure I never come across? Could it be what has driven virtually all of them mad?"_

She would receive her answer once she stepped into the realm of darkness, far away from Uiharu's apartment. The landscape was similar to one particularly dire night, except the air was far more grim in the present. When she heard a distant rustle in the blackness, she felt her neck hairs stand.

 _"This isn't the place to idle."_ So she left by sending herself into the air. She was not prepared to find what she would find.

Amongst a sea of blue lights, the nightlife of Academy City, Kuroko witnessed a tiny orange dot. So far stood that orange dot she almost considered it to be just another beacon of light, drowning in an ocean. Her careful eyes thought otherwise, however, for it recognized it for what it was: a furious blaze that produced a thick cloud of ominous smoke. Alarm did not come upon her until she realized where that blaze happened to roar: Tokiwadai's campus.

Like a moth, she found herself drawn to that foreboding flame. The closer she found herself, the more her concern inflated. The cloud of rising smoke, as it turned out, was far larger than she had once bargained. It engulfed the school's entire administrative office, and it burned with a vengeance few could quench. Unfortunately, it seemed to be an impossibility to which even the fire department fell victim.

Fire engines decorated the school's courtyard, sirens and lights blaring. Many stood away from the fire, attempting to calculate a strategy, while others threw vain streams of pressured water. Neither seemed to produce any fruit, and Kuroko doubted she could bring anything to the table. She chose to avoid the clique of fire officers, so she landed a little ways from their congregation to pace around the sight that stood before her.

The flame was indeed worthy of being that orange dot in the midst of a sea of blue. Despite standing quite a distance, the heat was nigh unbearable. Even a step closer set her against a heat that drove her back to her previous stance.

The first location for which her mind ran was the concern for the wellbeing of the students and faculty. The flames would not allow her to peer beyond the glass windows of the front. Some had been shattered by the heat while others barely remained intact. Neither kind would allow her to decipher the building's inventory. It dwelled within her deepest desire to see that none roamed within that building, now a remnant of the fiery pits of Hell, for any soul unfortunate enough to find itself trapped within would no longer cling to life.

Once or twice she considered spelunking into Hell for the sake of finding her peace of mind, but once or twice she reminded herself that survival would be a privilege- not a guarantee. Any genius rescue ideas abandoned her to fend for herself, which proved to be a profession in which she possessed little skill- in the midst of a moment of panic, at least. Deduced to nothing but a mere audience to the spectacle, Kuroko started to pace.

The distraction blinded her to all else that conspired around her, including the body with which she clashed. Shaking her head, Kuroko frowned and released a sigh.

"Thus marks the third time I've ran into someone today..." she mused. When she looked up to receive her visitor, however, her attention distanced itself from such a petty issue. Before her stood the Queen, brighter than her usual idle due to the neighboring glow. Her shiny blonde hair reflected the light brilliantly- almost enough to divert the eyes of her every viewer. This included Kuroko, who squinted in attempt to maintain a decent gaze.

"Fancy meeting you here, Shirai." Misaki spoke to a surprising degree of casual, especially when the building right next to her stood aflame. "Didn't you hear the administrators say that students were supposed to stay in the dorms?"

While gathering an appropriate amount of distance, Kuroko crossed her arms.

"I just got here, so everything's news to me. Would you happen to have any details?"

"All of them, naturally." Misaki followed her claim with a sensual wink. "The fire caught around twenty hundred, and it's grown so quickly the officers suspect arson. They've taken countermeasures to make sure it doesn't spread to any near-by buildings, but, sadly, there isn't much they can do for the fire itself. It's gotten so large they have no choice but to let it run its course."

Furrowing her brows, Kuroko briefly returned her gaze to the blaze.

"Whatever their motives, this pyrokinetic means business. This will tally millions in property damage."

"A pyrokinetic, you say? If I'm not mistaken, I could've sworn I overheard the fire chief say this is likely an _electrical_ fire. Any ideas?" Misaki paused to watch Kuroko's reaction as though she had it all calculated. Her expression delighted in the sight of the girl's uneasy eyes and pale face. A dark laugh gently exited the Queen's mouth before she bobbed her head towards the dormitory. Every angle of such an action oozed with insistence. "I don't even have to read your mind to know what you're thinking right now. You ought to go check just in case..."

The way Misaki directed her made Kuroko experience every sort of discomfort she knew, but she had no choice but to fight until her will gave. It was not like Misaka to commit such an atrocity, but with all that had happened up until that point... It truly did leave Kuroko's faith in shambles. For the sake of tranquilizing her restless spirit, she had to succumb to it at least one time. In an instant, she disappeared from Misaki's presence, heading for the building that loomed beyond the reach of the all-powerful flame.

Kuroko left just in time, for a shadow emerged from the flames and arrived at Misaki's side. Said shadow, a girl of medium stature, looked as though she had seen better days. Patches of her skin had been assaulted by the darkness of soot and ash. Strands of her auburn hair, once perfectly straight, had become tangled- some were singed and emitted a curious odor. Her eyes, sharp as they were cold, studied Misaki. Misaki spoke before she had the chance.

"You're quite inclined to take things to the extreme," she observed playfully. "Or am I mistaken to assume this mess is your doing?"

Brows furrowing, the visitor clenched her fists.

"Where is Kuroko headed?" she inquired, voice rough. Strings of static raised what few strands had not been damaged by the heat; its business had not yet been completed.

Misaki began her reply with a snicker.

"I'll take that as a 'yes, I'm guilty', since you aren't denying it." She motioned toward Kuroko's destination, the dormitory, and crossed her arms. "Shirai's searching for you over yonder. There's a chance that she may have come across some, shall we say, _revealing_ information about this nice little campfire here. The dots are going to be connecting in her strange little head soon, Railgun." Without a word, Misaka began walking away, but not toward the dormitory as one would anticipate. Misaki would not let her continue without a final comment. "You might want to follow her."

Misaka turned around.

"I'm in no shape to be seeing her right now."

"But I saw some strange men running in there a little while ago. Strange fellows, I'd say. They were dressed in black like they were trying to stay hidden or something. The dorm's been evacuated since it's too close to the fire, so I guess they were just looters trying to take advantage of the situation..." She smirked. "Or maybe they weren't looters...?"

What Misaki did not expect was a tower of blue lightening that erected from her visitor's head. Like the mouth of a loaded gun, seeing it staring at her so intently was not something that fed her the urge to laugh. In a near-instant, the javelin crashed on the ground and dispersed. Had Misaki not been wearing shoes with rubber soles, she likely would have received a nice shock.

"Even though you knew that, you still convinced her to go there, didn't you?" growled the electromaster. "Those're the guys that want to take her. They're going to ambush her while her guard is down. It's _so_ like you to not give a damn about her safety!"

Misaki gasped with as much phony she could muster, which was not terribly much. Though she knew she was not convincing anyone, which indeed included her threatening partner, the act continued.

"Me? Not caring for Shirai? Of course I care for Shirai! I told her to go look for you so she'd be safe."

"So you sent her exactly where she'll get jumped?" Misaki's collar became the hostage of the angered shadow's fist. Their faces drew near. She felt each infuriated huff escape her nose. "I hope you know what sort of things I do to people that put my friends in trouble, that way you'll understand _just_ what sort of Hell I'm about to put you through."

Despite every threat, not bluff, that thundered her way, Misaki brushed it off with a shrug and a smile. Her eyes narrowed confidently, gazing into the enraged eyes of a bull. She waved her red cape with grace before fluidly moving for a dodge.

"If you're so worried, what're you stalling for? You can certainly help Shirai out of the mess I've put her in. But, of course, if you did that you'd have an awful lot of explaining to do afterward..." The smile transitioned into a sly, almost menacing, grin. "Looks like your secret's running out of time."

Their eyes locked. The bull seemed set on demolishing every fiber of Misaki, but deep down, she knew her words were in sooth. She did have the power to help Kuroko, but that chance may expire should she idle. Roughly, and with a wrinkling nose, Misaki's visitor replaced her on the ground after a grim remark.

"Well played."

Before Misaki could respond, the shadow also fled the scene, heading straight for the same building as Kuroko.

Something was strange about that building, Kuroko noticed immediately upon entering. A wave of uneasiness greeted her as she edged open the door. Strangely enough, not a soul could be found in the lobby, which included the absence of a certain dorm matron she dreaded to face. Despite the action occurring just outside, everything felt stagnant. Cold, even.

Climbing the stairs took guts in such a situation, but one could suppose Kuroko was driven by a need to find answers to her many pressing questions. She arrived at her floor in a timely fashion with the help of her power, and it was there she found even more discomfort from the additional sense of loneliness. Out of curiosity, she paused momentarily to set an ear against the door of a random room. If people were in there, she would at least hear something.

She heard nothing.

Even the room she and Misaka shared granted her no solace. While stepping inside, she solemnly noted the emptiness. Beds had been made tidy. Chairs were pushed in desks. Windows were closed. Though it was such a mundane, if not routine, sight, it made the skin on her back crawl.

And for good reason.

The buzz of a vermin whispered past her ear. If it had been any closer, it likely would have struck the back of her neck. Instead of hitting her, however, it continued on until it lodged itself into the wall. Wait, bugs did not lodge themselves in the wall... Nor were they made of metal.

Kuroko's eyes widened; it was a dart.

Instinct turned her around to meet her potential attacker, but she found nothing. An empty hall stood behind her, and an empty room stood in front of her. As she had been, she was alone... Or so she thought. Frown arching, she responded to a slight shuffle that sounded behind a neighboring door. When she tried twisting the knob, she found the endeavor useless. She instead resorted to doing away with the door entirely. It reappeared in the midst of the hall seconds later.

The lights in the room had been turned on, but her neighbors did not occupy any of its available space. Before prowling inside, a simple recollection of her case of needles, which she knew rested inside her desk back at the office, gave her a feasible weapon. With more confidence, she cautiously invaded the room. First, she scrutinized the most imminent place to hide: the bathroom. A quick ripping away of the curtains told her that her threat did not linger there, so she prepared to step out and look elsewhere.

A slight rustle caught her ear. It glided past her blind spot, away from the bathroom's doorway, and deposited itself into the hall. It's wordlessness owed its thanks to Kuroko for leaving the door ajar. Alarmed, the girl turned and prepared to follow. A growl escaped her lips in the meantime.

"Hold it!"

Before she could leave the room, however, an explosion made her pause. In the heat of the panic, she wondered if such a powerful blast owed its existence to the outdoors, where the fire continued its rage. Too close was such a sound, however, which would ultimately disprove Kuroko's notions. Likewise would appear to the bright flash that appeared before her very eyes.

A spear of lightening boomed across the dorm's hall. The floorboards ripped. Walls crumbled. The ceiling cracked. Many articles from many rooms fell and added to the racket. Though she had not been hit by the blast, the sheer force of its passing was enough to send her flying deeper into the room she had invaded. The scream of a man followed, but was ended short by an agonized howl.

Displaced from hitting the ground, Kuroko found pulling herself up to be a difficulty. She groaned, avoiding crumbs of the ceiling that started to drop onto her face. For fear of the roof collapsing on her, she migrated closer to the doorway leading into the hall. The devastation that had been wrought by the beam stole her breath within moments.

The entire hall had turned black and bore the shape of a tunnel, for, just seconds ago, it once housed a treacherous cylinder of destruction. Smoke arose from patches that began to smolder. In awe, her eyes timidly followed the ditch to the left. The body of a stranger man sat still at the very end, fried and charred beyond recognition.

The crackling of sparks drew her eyes the opposite direction.

There, at the fountainhead of the black ditch, stood her savior: a girl with ballads of lightening dancing between the strands of her hair. Every short inch that sprouted from her arm stood erect. Static glued some of her clothes to her body. Her skin, once fair, was red, littered with bruises of gray and yellow. If her skin could not be made a spectacle, it was because it had been caked in dark chalk.

Most important of all: the fury in her eyes was indescribable.

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 **Author's Note: We're drawing to an end here, folks. The last chapter will be out soon. Until then, please feel free to leave a comment, like, subscribe, tweet, repost... Whatever the heck this website uses.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Hello, everybody. I have risen from the dead.**

 **I feel like I owe a big apology for some reason. You may not feel that way, but I certainly do. This chapter is dreadfully late with nearly half a year gone by since the last one. Luckily, here I am with the final chapter.**

 **For those of you who care, a whole bunch of crap has occurred in my personal life. A big move, telling my mother and father that I plan to undergo a sex change and being threatened to be kicked out of the house because of it... You could say I've gone through a little episode of depression. I've wanted to do nothing but rot in front of video games in my free time for several months, and it wasn't healthy. Putting all of that on top of scrapping nearly 13,000 words on this chapter alone really quenched my desire to write. Sorry if that sounded like I was grappling at your sympathy, it's just what's been going on. It's a little therapeutic to get it all out there, so I can leave it behind me now.**

 **Without further ado, I present to you the final chapter. Enjoy.**

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Many would always stand up for Tokiwadai's own Ace, Mikoto Misaka. She was known for her humbleness, power, and justice; the world's only presentable Level Five, for she had not yet collapsed under the weight of gruesome knowledge. Once, she almost fell into the a trap, but she had a reputation at stake. An image. A pristine image of which all knew, of which all had seen, of which many admired. Like selling her soul to a figurative devil, most of her life was not her own. Popularity, and profoundness, reduced her existence to nothing more than a grim effigy on display.

In very few instances, that picture needed to be torn to shreds, and she intended to see every fragment catch a ride with the passing wind. It would be long before she recollected each piece, and no matter how much glue or tape she applied, it would never return to the way it was before. Never again to be whole. Never again to be pure. Never again to be clean.

Was this worth tearing up that newly-repaired picture again?

Yes, she had decided; it was.

When the moon spread across the land, Misaka departed from the dormitory, contrary to the curfew that was to come into play in no more than an hour. Kuroko had yet to return from work, so avoiding her did not stand as a problem. That did not mean she had no problems at all: the dorm matron would be a pain in her side. If she cut the power for a moment, though, that woman would be too distracted to take notice of her departure. As Misaka planned, she waltzed right out the front door, cloaked in darkness and free as a chipper lark. Fresh air met her outside, where she went to work.

The administration building was clothed in eyes, all of which she easily shut while steadily prowling nearer. Not a single witness was hers once arriving, and the door became subject to a feisty kick. One did not do the trick. Neither did two. Her magic number, however, was three. The front doors gave way at last, granting her entrance within the darkness of the building. Each room received her prejudice, for she had not made intricate memorizations as to where eyes had been positioned and hidden. Her caution would force her to barely peek within each, and her wrath would follow a brief while of study. Working off the rough map scratched within her head, Misaka guided herself down various halls of the main office. Onward she would continue until reaching her intended destination: Tokiwadai's counselor office, into which she took leery steps.

A flick of the light switch granted her improved vision, so, after locking the door tight in her wake, she immediately went to work. Each innocent drawer found its insides subject to violent pillaging, for Misaka gave cleanliness no regard. If a file did not cater to her interests, she carelessly tossed it over her shoulder, where it would be forgotten on the rug. The desk did not yield what she sought, but she was not disheartened. The desk was not all that occupied the room; in addition to a computer, many filing cabinets lingered to keep her company. Due to an inherent bias as an electromaster, she targeted the computer next.

The PDA resting within her pocket proved handy; when she conjoined it with the desktop, all she had to do was search for keywords her designated files were most likely to contain.

Kuroko was a reasonable word.

Shirai.

Threshold Fever.

Level Five.

She found multiple matches, which ignited a flame within her chest and belly. Frown deepening, her eyes slowly wandered back up to the screen. After taking hold of the mouse, she followed the specific path within the filing system that would lead her to a certain folder she did not like. The folder did not contain much, nor was it named much: "Shirai Kuroko". Inside the file, each text file's name was only differentiated by a number. To make matters worse, they too were guarded by a password.

Well, such a thing was not exactly a problem for Misaka; a simple return to her PDA, and the punching in of a few buttons, granted her all the access she needed. The computer yielded the files that demanded such intense protection. When her eyes darted to skim over each digital letter, she could then see why it required a password. The words she read were words she did not like, and they only worsened the flames and churns bellowing in her stomach. The more she scrolled down the text file, the more she grit her teeth out of both fury and concern.

Before her appeared two options: she could simply throw the files in the recycling bin and delete them into oblivion, or she could take the more extreme road. The extreme road would assure that her current goal, the disposal of any evidence, would be closer to completion.

Being a thorough girl, Misaka walked the extreme road.

Threads of blue electricity eased out her finger tips, and they played along the keyboard until the screen started to flicker between black and blue. The more voltage she injected, the more the computer reacted. Speakers turned on and off repeatedly, windows and tabs opened and closed on a whim, and the power button blinked rapidly. Finally, a certain degree of volts penetrated the machine's capacity. In just one moment, with the accompaniment of the computer's final scream, everything became still. A steady stream of black smoke slowly arose from a black monitor, befriending a timid sizzle.

"Glad that's out of the way." Misaka leaned back in the swivel chair. She had to confess: it was quite the comfy chair, which invited her to rest. But her comfort was born to die pitifully young; not long into her relaxation, Misaka's eyes opened again, their coldness renewed. "But I'd be an idiot to think they didn't make copies."

Her search continued, this time entertaining the company of the filing cabinets. Akin to those in the desk drawers, the files possessed a strange organizing pattern (if it were an organized "pattern" at all) that stretched beyond her understanding. If the counselor, or whoever managed the files, stored anything to the likes of Judgment, she would have been able to find what she wanted far sooner. Convenience was not entirely on her side, for she was reduced to throwing more folders behind her, adding to an unmissable mountain of papers in the center of the floor.

Her prize hid itself in the back of the very bottom drawer. When she found it, her face scrunched, for she had her share of difficulty when it came to deciphering the counselor's nigh illegible handwriting. What few words she could recognize formed into a paragraph that did not tickle her fancy, which led her to frown. As Misaki swore, Kuroko did indeed pay a visit to the counselor, and the records of the session rested within her hands. Misaka discriminated the anger she felt toward that roommate of hers; after all, Kuroko did the right thing with what little knowledge of her issue she possessed. She did not know any better at the time. Even so, though... Misaka did feel quite enticed by the idea of smacking that girl upside the jaw for all the extra work she added to her load by visiting that damned counselor. Growling, she channeled her frustration into folding the small packet of papers, which she neatly stuffed into her shirt.

She left the counselor's office without even bothering to clean up after herself; the longer she remained in the building, the more likely she was to be caught. If ever she were discovered by security, it would be impossible to save herself from imminent defamation. She was Railgun, Ace of Tokiwadai. Not a soul within Academy City would fail to recognize her youthful face and frightening power. The press would surely cannibalize itself ravaging for details on such a bombshell: Railgun, Tokiwadai's squeaky-clean pride and joy, ransacked the school's administration office? What for? If ever her reasons became public, her entire endeavor would be destroyed. Never would she forgive herself.

Kuroko did not deserve what would surely happen if such a reality came into being.

As full as she happened to be, Misaka's plate was not yet empty. More of the meal awaited her attention, and more courses loomed in the near future. Complaining, as she had long learned, would not deliver her to her goals, so she slapped on a game face and continued to get down to business.

Her lecherous PDA consummated with more than the desktop that night, for it too found itself connected to the behemoth printer within the break room. She requested the device of the printer's history, and, as expected, received an extensive queue from computers all around the building. Some jobs had been completed, while others were scheduled for the following day or later. She was able to narrow her search by adding a criteria: jobs only requested from computer number three hundred fourteen, also known as the smoldering heap of metal sitting at the counselor's desk.

To her horror, the list contained a busy command schedule, particularly of documents that bore a similar name to those that drove her to destroy that computer in the first place. Multiple copies of each document contained in that dreaded "Shirai Kuroko" folder had been made at least two weeks prior. The further down the list she traveled, the more she found herself sick to her stomach. Perhaps she actually _was_ sick; those papers, those documents with such harmful information, were nothing short of a virus. That virus had been replicated many times, and she failed to even fathom to what places it could had spread.

Her large meal suddenly turned into a seemingly endless buffet.

The spectacle before her stole her strength, so she sought friendship from the same printer she had violated. Quivering, she found structure from that firm machine, but it did not remedy the queasiness knocking at the back of her throat. She was frightened, but that was not the reason for her tears. So great had the pain in her abdomen blossomed she could not dam the flood any longer.

"I'm too late," she hissed to herself. "You were late, Railgun! Don't think an apology will ever fix this." No longer did she have options, for there only remained one. It was ultimately up to her if she would make that decision. It was permanent, and it would surely ruin her forever if something were to go wrong. She pondered heavily while solemnly lifting her head. "Those papers have to be circulating the entire building by now, and they've surely gotten to the outside too... I can't get ahead of myself. Just small bites for now, Railgun. All you should worry about tonight is here: Tokiwadai's administration building." Her eyes cautiously wandered to the ceiling. "I can search through each room if I want, but who knows how long it'll take me. That sort of project would span multiple nights at the least. There's only one of me, so I don't have that sort of time to waste. Besides, even if I did search each room, I'll miss something. I always do. Overlooking even the most minuscule detail can ruin everything..." Downhearted, she faced her single option. Hesitation branded her heavy expression. "Guess I don't have much room to make too many choices, now, do I? This isn't a question of if I can... But if I should."

She had to.

The printer suffered her wrath first. With far more exuberance than her attack on the computer, she struck the appliance with fabrics of lightening. Almost immediately, the smoke that arose from the machine evolved into a burdensome flame that lit darkness out of the room. The fire alarm caught on to her schemes sooner than she anticipated, for it began wailing within seconds. It was for the better; if any innocents remained within the building, she could rest well knowing they had been given a fair warning to evacuate.

How she craved for fire like a demon, so not a single room found itself spared from her malice. Each contained at least one sort of electronic. If it could plug into the wall, it was fried to the point of bursting from the heat. Only she knew what she was doing: she was stalling, giving people the time they needed to leave before exacting her most devastating blow.

Contrary to what many would assume, Misaka's most devastating blow was not her signature Railgun. Not in this situation. It would instead be her intimate knowledge of a building's anatomy.

The modern building was no different than an organic body, she had come to learn. It had organs brought to life by veins. Life-giving currents flowed through those veins, and its supply stemmed from one key source: the heart, which was located in a sacred room deep within the building's core. Too much blood, and the heart would be overwhelmed; flooded, in a sense. Misaka did not have to do much but set her hand on one intimidated organ: a lamp that sat at the receptionist's desk. Through that lamp she implemented her all, feeling and sending ferocious currents.

At last, she found the path to her target, and every ounce of her power bore its fangs and tore its way through the circuit. Every vein unfortunate enough to guide a force so powerful would find the task to be their last; the sheer power overwhelmed them in its passing, leaving them as nothing more than steaming black ash, a mere shadow of their former glory. The heart did not stand a chance once the barge arrived.

Wherever that breaker happened to hide, Misaka did not have to find it to know of its death. The ground trembled to imply an unforgiving burst, and just seconds later, some ceramic gave way. As if the earth itself had opened to vomit creatures from the deep, hungry flames rose and consumed all it could fit in its grimy hands. Misaka, as a result of underestimating the size of the explosion, almost fell victim to its ferocity.

What fury indeed circulated in the air that night. It fueled the aching fire that desolated the largest building on campus. It danced along the azure threads spreading across her body, sparking at the peaks of her itching fingers. It reigned tyrant within her caramel gaze, which pressed against her felled target across the dormitory hall: the charred man at the end of the trench dug out by her devastating Railgun.

The fury found company within another gaze, however. It mingled with betrayal. Disappointment dwelled within Kuroko's face as she ebbed out of the room that once kept her safe. Her cautious feet delivered her to the center of the ditch that used to be a hall in the dormitory. As if she gazed at a goddess of lightening, the girl remained still, utterly baffled and stricken by awe. Never had Misaka seen such an expression so tense with emotion, so conflicted at every twist and turn. The war within Kuroko's eyes shed so much blood it drowned any remaining respect, understanding, and relief. Tense was all she had become, and she would not release a single muscle.

How the rage loved to consume their every waking thought. To indulge in the inability to understand. To devour each and every thing string composing the threads that bound them together. Kuroko broke her stunned trance to nervously step nearer, fearful, yet curious. Misaka watched in anticipation. Who would be the first to speak? It was possible the two would stand as they were forever, never daring to speak it all.

Kuroko's lips started to part.

Joy's archenemy, rage, had close company: horror. It manifested itself in the form of a sharp pain in Misaka's thigh. It was a pain she had never felt before. A pain so great it brought her, a powerful Level Five, to her knees. The roar that so brashly assaulted her ears, she would conclude not even a second later, was mournfully late.

Shock flooded into Kuroko's eyes. It buried the rage that nestled in her bosom. Her feet selflessly sprinted to Misaka's side, reaching her the moment the girl's plummet delivered her to the blackened floorboards. Kuroko handled Misaka in hopes of replacing the sturdy she lost far too quickly.

The late bang left Misaka's ears unresponsive. The most that came through was ringing. She found it irritating. To worsen the irritation, waves of pain coursed through the twists and turns of her body. It left her confused. So very confused. So confused, in fact, she failed to register Kuroko's every distressed call. Or how her tormented eyes attempted to peer into the glassiness of her own. Or how she shook her with vigor. Misaka, as if left in solitude, settled with burying her teeth into her bottom lip, hoping to create a pain powerful enough to distract her from what could be crowned the truest misery. Strands of her electricity, once vibrantly whisking around her form, deadened until they barely clung to life. Her breath felt rationed. Her heart married a daunting tempo. It became work just to suspend the structure of her head, which shredded her resistance to the invitation of Kuroko's humble shoulder. Against her, she allowed herself to rest.

It felt as though she had slept for hours, but then she began recollecting herself. Where she was. Who she was. What was happening.

A pain so great could not have come out of nowhere.

No.

It was impossible.

Slowly, at a pace equal to her hospitable keeper's, Misaka pivoted her head. The fabric of Kuroko's uniform obstructed half of her hazed vision. Luckily, she did not need the other half. She needed only one. It insistently devoted its attention to her enemy: a man. He stood in the back of their room, facing the doorway. Dark clothing masked his body. What he did not bother to conceal, however, was his menacing handgun. He flaunted it proudly, out for all the world to see as a steady stream of thick, black smoke spilled from its mouth. His thumb, like a newly-wedded lover, caressed the firearm's hammer to prepare a second shot.

Instead of dissipating completely, the rage, once buried, broke free from the cage in which Kuroko attempted to house it. It whirred and span with freedom. It eased her lower jaw into protrusion, lessened the diameter of her angered pupils. A thin-shafted needle halted the man before he fired his second shot, for it lodged itself into his palm. Mortified, he unleashed the gun. It landed on the ground as he stumbled away from the pair, terror building in his breath as he observed his wound. Lucky for him, he would not have to fret long; a newspaper vendor set him out of his panic once and for all.

Decibel by decibel, Misaka freed herself from the shock. Her ears opened, but her return was greeted by an era of still, untainted silence. The silence dissolved with the introduction of finer sounds to the likes of shouting from desperate firemen as they scrambled and screamed outside the building. To the likes of her breath, which was just as labored as the girl that maintained her sturdy. To the likes of a whisper.

 _"Sissy..."_

She found not the strength to acknowledge the speaker, for strength eloped with the miserable pain pulsating through her thigh.

 _"Sissy, please..."_

In attempt to soothe her, Misaka mustered enough determination to raise a hand. She cupped her holder's cheek, and, as she rhythmically stroked her soft skin, she attempted to use that same determination to unleash her voice. A hand placed itself over her own to keep weakness from robbing her of such a gentle, assuring touch.

"No need... to worry..." she muttered. Getting out something, even if it were something simple, gave her all the confidence she needed. Teeth gritting, her muscles awakened, working to set her back on her feet. Kuroko's actions protested. Hardheaded, Misaka thought otherwise. Ultimately, however, her zealous confidence only set her up for disappointment; the sting that erupted in her thigh submitted her back to her knees, but Kuroko spared her from the heavy landing.

"You've been shot. Don't move so much!" the girl warned.

Instead, Misaka's eyes widened.

Shot? She, the proud, nigh undefeated Level Five, shot by a mere gun? She almost could not believe the claim until her tired eyes trailed down to the floor, once shiny and polished. It had been ruined by a small puddle of her own blood. She whitened, winced, and proceeded to pant.

"Dammit. Not now," she hissed, distressed. A bundle of sparks gathered around her form in anger. Their aura brushed against Kuroko, who reacted with a shiver. Long accustomed had she been to such a sensation, so crisp. It hit her like peppermint. Cold, yet searing. It foreshadowed an outburst for which Kuroko braced. Sure enough, an outburst indeed followed. With it came a fearsome, but fleeting, storm. "I don't need this, dammit!"

Kuroko did not flee from the source of the roar, though it was impulse to break for shelter. The moment the flurry settled, she relieved her arms from shielding her face, and they immediately worked to extract her vest from her body. What seemed like a fairly quick action was not quick enough; Misaka had risen again by the time she slipped her head through the vest's collar. It was true that Misaka could not stand on her own, but mobility was still hers. It came as a gift from the wall, against which she leaned while trudging down the hallway. It was effortless for Kuroko to trot to her side, vest in hand.

"What did I just-"

"I heard you the first time." She fished in her pocket for another token, then positioned it between her fingers. A pause for breath became mandatory. "If you're angry with me, I won't blame you... I won't hate you for it either... But I've got some things I need to take care of."

Violent things, it would appear. Shortly after she finished speaking, the coin departed from her hand, propelled by a tremendous beam of light. To an untrained eye, the spectacle danced between frightening and beautiful, but to a trained eye, Kuroko's specifically, it obviously lacked in strength, just as the strings of blue that sparked around Misaka's body. The moment the aches and moans induced by the building's newest injury died, Kuroko timidly stepped closer.

"I'm trying to be concerned for you, but you're making that difficult! People are in here!"

"Damn right there's people here!" The firing of another coin resulted in a mightier beam. Its performance, enhanced when compared to its predecessor, would imply that Misaka rapidly recovered her strength. Her gains were not natural, though; Misaka forged power artificially, fueled by sheer rage. "Just you, me, and these damned insects. These damned bastards! I'll kill them all!"

Blue threads bolted to and spread across the ceiling, crawling in search of food. It feasted upon the lights, damning the hall to a world of darkness. Luckily, it would not stay dark for long; innocent appliances, some in random rooms, some in the hall, burst into flames. At an alarming rate, the fire consumed its host and began searching for more. Quivering, Kuroko's eyes departed from what was gold and returned to the perpetrator.

"Are you _trying_ to tear this place apart?" she growled.

Before Misaka could answer, her plan, once plotted in silence, came into fruition. The brand new flames gagged each room, and they spewed within seconds. Just as Misaka expected, the vomit comprised itself of men. Each dressed themselves in dark clothing, armed with guns; the same breed as the man who fired a bullet into her leg. Eyes hardening, she focused on them, watching as they crowded together in the midst of the confusion. Blue sparks flickered in the dark. Her fingers cracked in anticipation as they eagerly dove into her pocket.

"If it gets rid of them, I'll turn this whole building into a pile of ashes." Again, she fired, but with far more exuberance than her previous attacks. Seeing her target so ripe for picking reawakened every ounce of energy, and the group, unsuspecting as bowling pins, stood no chance against a force so powerful. Within moments, the violence ended, leaving not a single survivor. The moon peeked through the wall's newest hole, glossing over both of their bodies. Basking in the paleness, Misaka's eyes wandered to the ground. The satisfaction she found in ridding the floor of her enemies was fleeting, for she knew that more awaited her. She wondered if the wound in her thigh, the same wound that drenched her entire leg in red, would allow her to scout them all out. While burying her somber forehead into a palm, she pressed further against the wall.

As if a subject to royalty, perhaps a goddess, Kuroko seized the moment to kneel before her friend. A series of pleading convinced Misaka to keep still as a vest, Kuroko's vest, snaked around her bloodied leg. Though it posed as a crude patch, it was the most at their disposal, and it accomplished its intended purpose with decency. As Kuroko began to press on the wound, Misaka rewarded her with a subtle pat on the head.

"I need to get you to a hospital," Kuroko announced sternly.

"I'm not done here." Before Kuroko could protest, Misaka staggered onward. Effortlessly, Her junior, like usual, followed.

"Whatever you're doing, you won't get it done. You can hardly walk."

Misaka paused.

"You're almost right..." She tried to continue again, only to stumble. Her savior caught her beneath the arm just before she could hit the ground. She relaxed for only a moment, which was a mistake. Relaxing felt too good. She wanted nothing more than rest. Thus, her departure from relaxation brought unnecessary pain. "There's still one option left."

Kuroko's expression became grim. Eyes dulling, she gazed down at her slouching friend,

"What you've done to the administration building," she deduced.

Misaka purposefully stalled when it came to concocting an answer.

It truly did sound awful.

"Do you still trust me?" she asked, breaking the silence. Such a question served as an answer. It was an answer to which Kuroko took little pleasure. She turned her head toward the gaping hole at the end of the hall, momentarily losing herself to the destruction that stretched before them. Even in a weakened state, Misaka could easily pulverize more.

"This is our home," she attempted to reason with her, but with little influence.

"Do you trust me or not, Kuroko?"

Oh, she did. She wanted to so very badly. For as long as she could remember, she had always trusted Misaka, even when the odds were at their grimmest. It felt wonderful to trust her, for she always prevailed. Everything was always okay when she trusted Misaka. She was a girl worth trusting...

But what about now, with their livelihood up in flames, dying more with every second? The ultimate trial stood before her, gazing with menacing eyes. She refused to falter.

She did not know why she felt compelled to embrace Misaka, regardless of her dirtiness. Then again, she, being Kuroko Shirai, always felt the need to embrace her... But not to such a powerful extent. She did not care if she buried her face into the soot caked over her clothes. So long as she could calm herself against Misaka, her dear, she could properly gather her thoughts. Into the stitches of Misaka's vest, she heaved a sigh, and they sank to the ground.

"Always."

Peering over the shoulder of her friend, Misaka's eyes narrowed and cautiously watched for those who would want to intrude. Had she cultivated the strength, she would have returned the warmth of her embrace with the warmth of her own.

"In that case, I need a favor of you." She felt Kuroko nod against her. It alone was enough to spread the slightest of smiles across her lips. "Attagirl," she sighed. Her breath hitched the moment another wave of pain rushed up her body. When she began quivering in response to a chill, she knew better than to waste time. "These people have come here for you. They want to take you away." With Kuroko's help, she returned to her wobbling feet, grunting and hissing the entire time. "I won't forgive a single one of them for that, but this damned bullet in my leg isn't going to let me hunt them all down... Not unless I just go ahead and do away with the entire building. Of course, blowing up a giant dormitory would take a lot of energy on my end, so..." She paused to stumble. "I can't be sure I'd have anything left to get out in time once I'm done."

After hoisting Misaka back onto her feet for the umpteenth time, Kuroko nodded.

"Of course, Sissy."

* * *

Misaki Shokuhou, as if it were a talent, blended in perfectly amongst a crowd of scrambling firefighters. They had other things on their mind, such as the beam of light that just soared out of the northern dormitory, so they could not possibly bother with her. With a boom did that beam sound, and it stole their attention from the colossal bonfire that was the administration building. Uneasy shouts became more uneasy. Many retreated to the fire chief in hopes of receiving rational orders. To Misaki's luck (or plan; she seemed peculiarly anticipatory), she happened to be standing near enough to catch wind of their exchange:

"Sir! There's been a second explosion at the dormitory! The suspect's still in close proximity!"

"And seems to be after the entire campus. My god, and that's where the administrators instructed all the students to go..."

"I need your permission to assemble a rescue squad, sir!"

Misaki, while scoffing at their ignorance, pranced onto the scene at last, where she decided to finally play her part.

"That's the northern dorm. The administrators sent students to the _western_ dorm. You know, since it's further away from that little slice of Hell." Her head, glossy hair and all, nodded toward the burning administration building.

The officers glanced at her simultaneously. Though they spoke not a word to each other, they shared the exact same thoughts.

"In that case, little miss, what're you doing out of the _western_ dorm? Isn't that a Tokiwadai uniform you've got on?"

"I am a student, yes. I'm here because I happen to be a powerful esper, and I'm interested in tracking down the little prick that's trashing up my campus. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get started on my business." She made movements toward the nearest dormitory. As a municipal officer would likely do as a small girl waltzed in the direction of danger, the fire chief rushed after her and cleared his throat.

"Hang on, now, wait-"

The ground trembled before he could finish, which stilled the entire crowd. As they braced for structure, eyes darted to the dormitory. Only the blind would pay it no mind, for it was the dormitory that lit the night into submission. Every window fought to contain a shining light. Ultimately, they shattered. With an ear-piercing bang, fire blasted out of the building's guts, spewing fragments of brick and wood into the sky. The moment the debris began to pelt the ground, the officers rushed for safety. After abducting the lightweight Misaki, the fire chief made a beeline for one of the many fire engines. Into it, he climbed to join his brothers in hopes of avoiding treacherous raindrops.

Misaki, unlike her neighbors, was not worried at all. With glowing eyes, she watched the edifice burn with a vengeance that competed with its sibling. One of her fingers tapped on her chin. Then the other finger. Then the next. The next. The last. At an unheard decibel, her throat yielded an unsteady chuckle.

"Dear Railgun..." she muttered. "The extremes you'll go to for that girl... You must really like her."

* * *

That girl, Kuroko Shirai, landed inside the hospital, the nearest one she could find from Tokiwadai's campus. It did not come as a surprise to find many eyes glued to her. Not that she did not deserve the attention; she spontaneously appeared in the middle of the lobby with a bleeding girl slung over her back. It was natural that a sickling stopped his coughing to stare. It was natural that a child with a cut on her leg finally halted her wailing.

Though the room was packed with curious eyes, Kuroko hardly paid notice to anyone... save for one individual: the receptionist, to whom she sprinted the moment her toes touched the floor.

"I have an emergency," she announced.

The receptionist raised a brow; understandable, since the two, especially Kuroko's passenger, were caked in chalky soot. The woman clearly could not sympathize with the urgency in Kuroko's voice, for the front of her desk concealed the blanket of blood ruining Misaka's thigh and skirt. With her legs wrapped around Kuroko's hips, that same crimson began to claim a second skirt victim.

After bickering (and bringing up her affiliation with Judgment an unnecessary amount of times), Kuroko eventually had her way and snagged a spot in line, one far more ahead than those loafing around the lobby. While waiting, Kuroko did not sit, for she had been promised to be taken to the emergency room the soonest a professional became available. Unfortunately, the arrival of help was not as near as she hoped. Past the five minute mark, Kuroko started to tremble, and her eyes glued themselves to the floor. Misaka's weight became too much for her weakened, panicked state. Her arms threatened to give way, but Kuroko refused to allow it. The mere thought of dropping her, especially with a bullet through her leg, filled her with the strength she needed to carry on for just a few seconds more. The cycle repeated.

Misaka, whose head rested in the crook of her neck, shifted.

"Hey," she muttered, sluggish from blood loss. "Ever thought about calming down?"

"Some men are after me. My home just got blown up. If I lose you on top of all that..." She failed to finish, for a door swung open, and its entrance was penetrated by a swiveling cot. The only one who did not push the cot, a stubby old man whose face resembled a frog, glanced at his clipboard and cleared his throat.

"Miss Misaka Mikoto?" he announced into the room. His eyes stopped searching the moment a girl, Kuroko, appeared at his side. She made use of her powers to set her patient in the bed, and she left the fine-tuning, such as settling her head upon the most comfortable patch of the pillow, to her hands. In the meantime, the doctor briefly studied his newest patient to create a proper verdict. "Hm. Gunshot wound in the thigh. Judging by the amount of blood she's lost, the bullet must've gotten close to the femoral artery. Get her to a room the quickest you can."

Without even a nod, the nurses swiveled Misaka deeper into the building. Kuroko, unsurprisingly, planned to follow, but she, particularly her nose, met rejection when the door to the hall collided with her face. While withdrawing, she hunched and nursed her face with a scowl.

"No visitors in the emergency room," grumbled the receptionist, which coaxed Kuroko into squinting her eyes. She considered teleporting beyond the door to follow, but she feared breaking the rules would have her, or even Misaka, kicked out.

"Fine." She marched to the other side of the waiting room, where she settled herself into a chair. Quite a number of people filled the waiting room, so she did not have the luxury of choosing a seat that was segregated from the crowd. Personal space was not a privilege either.

At least half an hour passed, Kuroko was sure. Each time she checked the clock on her phone, though, it seemed as if no time passed at all. When neighbors asked for her wellbeing, she barely replied. If she had enough consideration to speak more, she lied, and it was mumbled. With time, being asked if she was okay became an expectation, and she knew how to prepare for it. That made the whiplash all the more painful, for there came a point in which not a soul said a word to her, much less ask any questions. She found such a thing strange, especially when a brand new batch of patients now sat with her in the waiting room.

The mystery did not live for long, for an elderly woman with a cough suddenly spoke.

"How terrible."

Kuroko glanced up from her twiddling thumbs, where she caught eye of her fellow waiters. Their eyes were glued to the television perched in the corner of the room, supervising them all like a hawk. On the screen, a local news helicopter observed a woeful sight: Tokiwadai's campus, which continued to burn with fury. By now, it may have burned with even more. No wonder they did not ask anymore: the television screen, in addition to the singed fabric of her distinct Tokiwadai uniform (minus the vest), told her story to any onlooker.

Again, Kuroko whitened. The stacks upon stacks of stress weighing on her shoulders surely made her forget about that fire. She began to consider the reminder a curse.

Before she could ponder upon her predicament again, the pocket in her skirt vibrated. From it, she retrieved the buzzing's source: her phone. In hopes of securing privacy, and the ability to hear the other end, she abandoned her seat, which was immediately stolen by an eager patient. Beside the doors to the bathrooms, segregated from the crowd, Kuroko finally humored the call. A loud, and worried, tone greeted her, so her ear fled from the speaker until the screaming resolved its volume.

 _"Hello? Shirai? Oh, thank goodness you picked up!"_

Kuroko recognized the feminine voice of the caller, but at the same time she did not. It was a voice she knew she should not have forgotten, which slapped her with guilt. The shock of current affairs left the banks of her memory empty. After squinting curiously, she lowered her phone to check the caller ID. Saten Ruiko, it read. She quickly returned to the conversation.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

 _"While my friends might be on fire? Fat chance! I've been trying to get ahold of Misaka ever since I saw everything on the news, but she wouldn't answer me. Are you two okay?"_

The fact that Kuroko stood in the hospital's waiting room should have been enough of an honest response. The situation... how very complicated it had become, and the thought of passing that burden to Saten was unpleasant. What was Saten ultimately wanting to know? She ultimately wanted to know if Kuroko and Misaka weren't burning up. Neither of them were on fire. That was a good enough excuse to lie, so Kuroko allowed herself to clear her throat.

"Sissy and I are fine. The administration building and the northern dorm are a different story, though, if that's also a concern of yours..."

 _"Thank god... Thank god! I don't"_ **-beep beep-** _"I've ever been this worried in"_ **-beep beep-** _"life."_

A second call? It had been a while since she last had someone else call her while she was already on the phone. Again, with haste, she checked the caller ID. This time, though, the screen of her phone did not want to come on until she shook it profusely. In the end, it was a useless effort; neither she or her phone could recognize the second caller's number. Since she had Uiharu's number also saved in her phone, the idea of it being her, likely with concerns similar to Saten's, was out of the question. Kuroko considered ignoring it, but in the midst of so much drama, it seemed unwise to ignore even the slightest abnormality.

"Saten. I'm sorry, but I need to let you go. We're fine. I'll call you back soon."

 _"W-Wait! Shirai-"_

Kuroko hung up and rushed to answer the pending call. Unfortunately, she was too late, for the phone stopped ringing. Left alone, Kuroko thought to herself pensively, brows furrowing and face scrunching. After thorough contemplation, she settled on trudging through her call log to renew their contact. Luckily, she would not have to search for long; just seconds after she made the decision, the number made a return to her screen, wishing again to be answered. Recognizing its urgency, she immediately granted its wish.

"Kuroko Shirai. May I ask who this is?" she announced foremost.

 _"It's Shokuhou Misaki."_

She frowned.

"Hm. I'm shocked to not be hearing any sassy remarks from you. What do you want?"

 _"I want to know where you and Railgun are."_

"Why do you care?"

 _"Just tell me. It's for your own good."_

A huff of air fled from both of her nostrils, which were stained by the scent of smoke. Anything that was not talking to Misaki seemed appealing all of a sudden, having built a sort of distrust in the girl. Was finally looking at everyone in the waiting room not talking to Misaki? Yep, it sure was, and that's what Kuroko decided to start doing, even when she remained on the line. Those poor people in that room; they looked miserable. Granted, nowhere near as miserable as her dear Misaka, who had a piece of metal fired into her thigh. A man dressed in business casual spread out in his seat, mouth guarded by a fresh face mask. The man next to him, who hacked up a storm, seemed less considerate of others. A visibly ill mother attempted to keep her two children in line as they ran amok in the lobby. A nurse departed from the hallway and summoned a bruised and bloodied man.

Someone caught her eye, and she wondered how he did not earlier. It was a tall man dressed completely in black, including the dark sunglasses over his eyes. Though he should have stood out like a sore thumb, he blended in mysteriously; an ominous chameleon, that man. He stood in the corner, facing her direction, but the tinted shades of his glasses refused to let her know if he watched her. Like she, he too chatted on his cellphone.

Hair raising, Kuroko returned to the phone uneasily.

"We're at the hospital on the fourteenth block." She felt unnerved enough to surrender her information.

 _"So the two of you didn't go far from the campus. How long have you been there?"_

"I don't know... Forty-five minutes?"

When the snappiness of their exchanges slowed, Kuroko's eyes darted back over to the portentous man in the corner. He had not moved since she took her eye off of him, but he multiplied. Once, there was only one man clad in black. Now, there were three, segregated from one another. They all looked at her.

 _"If you're ever going to listen to me, listen to me this once: get out of there. Find someplace you can hide the soonest you can."_

Kuroko took the hint. Her thumb mashed the button that would cut their communication, and she immediately went to work. The amount of civilians in the lobby gave her the comfort she needed to let her guard down as she thought; the men dressed in black would not do a thing so long as they were surrounded by the public, but the moment she took a dive into the hallway that once forbad her entrance, she knew she swam in unfamiliar, and likely unfriendly, territory.

She needed to retrieve Misaka the soonest she could, but there was no telling how long it would take to find her. Not knowing what room to which she had been taken set her up for a disadvantage, and a bad one at that. If she knew, the mere thought of summoning her would have solved her problem. On the bright side, she happened to have another power up her sleeve: deduction, which she used to narrow her search. The emergency branch was obviously the best place to start, but it disheartened her to discover that the emergency branch housed a plethora of rooms waiting to be gutted. She used her second, but less desirable, option when she caught eye of a rushing nurse.

"Hey, you!" she announced to the nurse. In the meantime, she dug out a verdant Judgment sash from her pocket and proceeded to pin it to her sleeve. Half of it suffered from an unsavory splotch of Misaka's blood. "This is Judgment business: I need to know which room contains a Mikoto Misa-"

"I'm sorry, officer! I'm in a hurry! Sorry!" The woman rushed right past her, leaving a scowl on the girl's face. As she turned back to the hall, she scoffed, chewed on a lip, and carried onward. Fearing that dallying would prove to be expensive, she rushed the fastest she could.

The hospitals she had visited in the past happened to be vigilant when it came to labeling rooms with the names of their occupants, but this hospital in particular... She could not boast familiarity with this one. The hospital with whom she was the most acquainted happened to be deeper into the city's interior, a place she once did not want to take the time to go to while carrying a bleeding passenger. Who knew how quickly this hospital organized things. She feared it would ultimately disservice her; what if, in the heat of her frantic searching, she accidentally passed Misaka's room? She had no choice but to check with the branch's front desk; it was sure to constantly be in the loop.

Unfortunately, the secretary there was similar to the waiting room's; she did not seem willing to help. Not much, anyhow. She grimaced the moment she and Kuroko, a budding teenager that had no place in the emergency wing, made eye contact.

"No visitors," she grunted.

"This is an emergency," She flashed her sash. "I'll need to get some information from you."

"Yeah? Where's your permit?"

"My... What?"

"Every officer's got a permit."

"I don't- no! This alone should be enough!" Once again, she brought her sash to attention. "I need to know where a Mikoto Misaka is being treated. I'm pressed on time."

The woman shrugged and raised her eyebrows before returning to her computer. Her apathetic expression scrunched the face of her observer.

"Sorry, little miss. No permit, no help. Get back in the waiting room before I call security."

Kuroko's hands slammed themselves on the desk.

"I'm not sure if you could tell by the look on my face, but this is an urgent matter."

"Everyone's matters are urgent nowadays."

Blood boiling, the girl narrowed her searing eyes. Her gaze burned a hole through the woman, whose eyes fixed themselves on the computer screen. As the bridge of her nose wrinkled, her head turned and looked around the room. She found only one of what she searched for: a camera perched in the corner, scrutinizing them both at the front desk. She frowned at it before a toothbrush telefragged the machine's shaft. If she had her way, which she likely did in this case, the camera died the minute it was penetrated. Therefore, the two were now alone, and she could carry out whatever dirty work she pleased.

Unchained from the threat of being seen, Kuroko disappeared, then reappeared on the other side of the desk, where she crept behind the woman's swivel chair. Having noticed the girl's sudden disappearance in the corner of her eye, the secretary eyed back up and allowed her alarmed eyes to wander. She did not turn around fast enough, which gave Kuroko ample time to place a hand on her shoulder and send her elsewhere. Luckily, it was not far; guests in the waiting room would be surprised to have a pudgy woman suddenly land in an unsuspecting gentleman's lap.

While Kuroko searched, Misaka fought to keep her eyes open... or even to move at all. The seducing call of slumber beckoned her nearer, but she refused to cave. Not yet, at least. She should have been rejoicing to feel sleepy, for sleep would let her ignore the pains shooting down her leg. The respirator, the slumber, attached to her face acted as her friend, but it was truly a backstabbing traitor. She knew its dirty secret, and she wanted to do away with its schemes. However, her hands, almost completely numb, refused to move.

The doctor did his work on her. With a bullet evicted from her bandaged leg, she should have had nothing to complain about, especially when privileged with anesthetics to endure the treatment.

There was no reason for her to be grateful. Not at a time like this.

Soon after the frog-faced doctor did his work and left, a nurse followed after him to begin cleaning his mess. Well, Misaka thought it was a nurse at first, but after he comfortably conversed with some visitors, men dressed in black, she knew better than to relax. She wanted to get up. She needed to get up. She needed to satisfy her urge to fry them all, merciless as an infuriated god.

The god had been tamed into submission.

"The Level Five... Sometimes she almost seems inhuman, and yet she's just as human as the rest of us. Making her harmless was surprisingly easy," one man spoke. Though the darkness of his sunglasses would not let her see the eyes behind them, she knew he looked right at her. He chuckled when he noticed her staring. "Just look at her. She's pissed as hell."

"Of course she is," agreed the nurse. "She's the one that's been giving us so much hell. She's close friends with the target."

"A damn good friend to take a bullet for her."

"She blew up their dormitory too. We had some men in there."

"Hm. A thorough one."

"No kidding. The job'll be easier once she's out of the picture," the nurse spoke again. His head nodded toward the door insistently. "Get her out of here. Squadrons Theta and Psi are closing in on the target as we speak, so we need to make sure there's little interference. Teleporters are a pain in the ass to catch."

Her skin began to crawl as the men approached her, gloved hands prepared to grab her. She would have flailed in attempt to free herself from their grasp, but, even after the respirator was gone from her face, she had no choice but to remain motionless. When she pushed herself hard enough, the smallest spark erupted above her head. A faint glint of hope flickered in her eye as she began toying with her handicap.

"Heh. She's trying real hard," one man commented.

"Won't even charge a Tamagotchi with that, girly."

They chuckled, and she chuckled as well. Not with them, but at them. It was never her intention to attempt to harm them with such a minuscule spark. After all, the man was correct; it wasn't enough to be of any use... besides releasing static into the air. The self-proclaimed vanguard of hers happened to be sensitive, always eager to respond to the slightest trace of the one she loved. The moment that static hit her, she'd come running.

"Did the boss have a particular place for us to take her?" inquired the man that carried the limp girl.

"The third facility on the seventh block. It's the only place with resources that can keep her sedated. Make sure she gets a good dose the moment you arrive... unless you feel like getting zapped to death."

"Yes sir."

From the room, the two dark-clothed men departed, making their way down the hall with Misaka in tow. Misaka, slung over the shoulder of her carrier, stared absently down at the ground, but she did not bother paying any attention to the sights passing before her eyes. She focused far too heavily on releasing more charges into the air. With time, her sparks grew, but never to a size worth reckoning. Once or twice, the noise crackling above Misaka's head caught the attention of her other kidnapper. He eased closer to observe her, and he raised a brow.

"Not giving up, are you?" he teased. "I'll bet you're a scary one when you're not drugged."

Misaka broke her concentration to look him in the eye. If she had the energy or control to speak, she would have called him a dead man.

Her efforts did not go in vain; the closer the group drew to the back parking lot, the stronger Misaka's emissions became. They traveled far longer, destined to eventually brush up against a girl whose face was glued intently to a computer screen. The very instant the hairs on her arms and neck perked, she halted her work. In an instant, the swivel chair went from occupied to empty.

The hot, muggy air of the night greeted the trio when they stepped into a dark parking lot. Hastily, they trudged their way to an inconspicuous town car. As inconspicuous as it seemed, plenty of details would drive the observant passerby astray; its every window, with the exception of the windshield, had been tinted, and its navy blue paint loved to masquerade in the night.

With both of his hands, one man rid his forehead of perspiration.

"It's hot as hell out here," he grumbled while opening the back door for his cohort.

"The fire this brat set to her school must be pretty damn big to reach this far." Without inflicting serious injury, the other man tossed Misaka into the backseat. After making sure her feet were not in the way, the door slammed shut.

"You think it's hot because of the fire, you dolt?" she heard outside.

"We're not that far from the campus."

"A fire can't reach this far!"

"Sure it can."

"No it _can't!_ "

After narrowing them, Misaka rolled her irritated eyes and huffed. The crumbling above her head was interrupted by the opening of the two front doors. The man that once carried her took to the driver's seat, and his partner became the passenger. Both neglected to strap themselves in, even after the engine began to purr. Misaka, whose face stared at the back of the passenger seat, could not see what occurred in front of her, but plenty of clues painted a picture for her.

The metal of a lighter clinked, and it was barely louder than Misaka's signals. The driver, even with all the pressure weighing on his shoulders, did not begin to drive. He stared at his passenger as clouds of smoke whisked around them and began to fill the entire car. Having developed a distaste for the scent of cigarettes, the passenger in the backseat worked up a scowl. Apparently, she was not the only one who scowled; minutes after giving his neighbor a cold, hard stare, the driver cleared his throat.

"I thought I told you not to smoke in my car. All that nicotine's a bitch to get off the walls."

"Can't help it. I need something to calm my nerves, know? It's dangerous work getting on the bad side of two Level Fives. I swear to god... If we don't get good dough for this, that old man's head's coming off."

"Damn straight."

"Damn straight..."

Misaka's brow raised, and she threw another attempt at moving. Nothing more than her fingertips seemed eager to respond to her, but she mustered enough breath to spare a few words. If it could stall for time, she would do it.

"Old man? Is he the one that sent you?" she inquired.

Both stopped what they were doing to turn around, surprised at Misaka's premature voice. Both of their eyes darted to one another shortly afterward, pressing one another to respond. The driver, who lost the nonverbal exchange, furrowed his brows and shook his head.

"I'm afraid this doesn't concern you, girly."

"I've been gassed and stuffed in the back of a car. It kinda does."

The passenger set his hand on the driver's shoulder, gripping it tightly. Two fingers clasped the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and a subtle breath hid his face with smoke.

"Hold it," he grumbled. "The girl's playing dumb. Squeaky clean celebrities like her don't burn down schools without knowing a detail or two." He grimaced. "What're you trying to get away with now?"

The ground shook slightly before she could answer. The impact of the noise, something large landing on the ground, felt uncomfortably close. Well, uncomfortable for the two men in the front seat. Misaka, on the other hand, felt a wide smile creep across her face. In both parties, heartbeats increased, but for entirely different reasons.

"What the hell?" The driver whipped around and peered out of the back window. Misaka did not know what he saw, but it frightened both him and his partner when he turned around as well.

"What is that?"

"An ambulance."

"Of course it's a damned ambulance! How did it get there?"

It was an ambulance indeed. One that, combined with the other cars parked around them, boxed them into immobility. While watching the two begin to panic, Misaka scoffed at them, which drew their attention.

"What's so funny?" one shouted angrily.

"Think a _teleporter_ put it there?"

"Son of a bitch..." After his teeth clamped down on his cigarette, the man withdrew a handgun from his person. As his partner did the same, sparks began to play around Misaka once more. "Some help Theta and Psi were. Aren't _we_ supposed to be the ones hunting _her_ down?"

Misaka could only sit and watch. She had only seen Kuroko become upset over somewhat petty things, but never had she seen Kuroko become upset because she was in trouble. That was likely the case because Misaka had seldom been in much trouble in the first place. But now, with the norm in shambles, another side of her best friend, her secret admirer, was to be revealed.

Like usual, Kuroko did not fail to disappoint.

A large, wooden pole appeared in the car, impaling the driver before he could even attempt to get away. The roof of the car, through which the pole passed, would not allow it to topple. It remained still, allowing Misaka's second kidnapper to scream in horror as he observed his dead friend. Even Misaka, with wide eyes, felt quite alarmed to witness the degree of violence that was her friend's attack.

The car door opened, for the remaining man began to flee, cigarette falling from his lips. No longer did he care for the job, nor the money that incentivized him to stay; the most he wanted was his life. After weaving around the ambulance that blocked the back of the car, however, he encountered not life, but his demise. Under one of the lot's only street lamps stood a girl, angered fists clenched at her sides. Blood stained the side of her skirt. An infuriated expression spread across her face.

"You've caused a lot of trouble for me," he heard her breathe. Before he could make pleas for his life, which would likely end in a fate as gruesome as his coworker's, a sharp pain erupted in either of his legs. He wailed in agony as he stumbled onto the uneven asphalt below him, unable to pull himself back onto his feet. His hands shook themselves of the rocks buried in their skin and darted to the source of the pain, where he felt an unnerving wetness and something metal- a small metal needle that drove, no, _appeared_ in the front of his shins, lodged in both bone and muscle. The closer the girl drew to him, the more he attempted to scramble away. His dark clothes, as they scraped across the rocky ground, slowed him.

"S-Stay away from me!" he demanded, but she did not listen. With a grim pair of eyes, she stared down at him, frown arching. The panic distracted him from pulling out his handgun. When the realization dawned upon him, he raced for it and immediately took aim. His aim locked onto her, and he started to wheeze. He had to fight the urge to wipe the sweat dripping down his face. "Step any closer and I'll shoot!"

She continued despite his threats. Fear drove him to remain true to his word; his itching finger pulled the trigger, and the gun erupted in his quivering hand. It quivered so much, in fact, his grip became weak enough to surrender the gun after its recoil. It landed on the ground next to him... Not that it mattered. He did not see the girl anymore, for she likely laid on the ground, dead or weakened from his attack. The threat was tranquilized...

Or so he thought.

A cold circle pressed itself upon his temple. He looked, terrified to discover the girl next to him, crouched and tearing into his eyes with her own. The gun was no longer his, for she had stolen, claimed, and turned it against him. With its chilly metal pressed against him, he decided to remain perfectly still, whimpering and shaking all over. While watching, the girl reached down with her other hand, and her finger pressed against the one of the shades of his sunglasses. Without a trace, those sunglasses disappeared, revealing two frightened eyes that fought to withhold tears. Her throat cleared.

"When the others come around, I want you to tell them what happened. You'll deliver my message to whoever sent you: stay away from me and the people I care about."

He bought her mercy with a quick nod, and he remained perfectly still as she slowly rose back to her feet. The gun disappeared from her hand, but he did not know where it could have gone. Not a word more exchanged between the two as she walked away, heading for the car impaled by a telephone pole.

* * *

The ocean of the city flowed beneath her as a cool breeze drifted past her hair, loose clothing fluttering. The sights, sounds, and smells would have made for a relaxing journey had the context not been so dire. Though worry consumed her every waking thought, she would not allow the stress to cave her into submission. Mammoth buildings, some large enough to separate the clouds, attempted to reach and swipe at her. They had become her enemy, trying to inhibit her from reaching her goal. With unforgiving hatred did she loathe those buildings... until she discovered her destination, a hotel, happened to be one of those very buildings. It towered over its underlings, including its neighbor: La Mancha, a department store of decent size.

The trip was relatively quick... or it felt quick. Yet, at the same time, Kuroko felt she moved too slowly.

Making an entrance through the front of the hotel would charge her with time, and it would be mighty complicated to explain why a girl with a bullet wound was slung over her back. Emergencies always called for unorthodox measures, many of which Kuroko prepared to undertake.

Upon arriving at the building, she traveled beyond the wall and landed square in the middle of a room. She sighed in relief, eager to bless her aching muscles by setting Misaka someplace more comfortable. Before she could do anything, however, she discovered a hefty surprise upon lifting her head. Before her stood a tall, silky bed that housed two individuals: a man and a woman. She did not recognize the pair, and the pair did not recognize her. Both exchanged miserably awkward stares before Kuroko disappeared from the room in an instant.

One door over, she found more luck, for she was greeted by a second room. It was dark, which implied vacancy. The ignition of a table lamp verified the claim. She gently delivered Misaka to a bed, and her hands meticulously worked to make her comfortable. She would have asked for Misaka's preference, but she seemed abnormally tired... disconnected from reality, almost. For the most part, she seemed unresponsive. Multiple attempts to wake her left Kuroko fruitless, so she piped down to leave her at rest, putting her attention to her leg instead. When she checked, Kuroko happily found many layers of bandages wrapped around her dear's thigh, and it yielded not even the slightest to what was once a heavy flow of blood. Though it had its downsides, their trip to the hospital certainly had its upsides as well.

Alone in a hotel room with a sleeping Misaka... It was one of Kuroko's wildest, most coveted dreams, but she never imagined it would actually happen, much less under such horrific circumstances. Those circumstances, that stress, toned Kuroko down to an appropriate level. The most devious place her lecherous hands wandered was her dear's paling face, where she whisked away the sweat that began to oil her messy bangs. After fetching a wet washcloth from the neighboring washroom, she gently wiped wherever soot smeared across Misaka's skin. With kind, reliable care, her narrow fingers rid Misaka of her shoes, which she cast into banishment. She hesitated before sliding down her bloody socks as well, for she feared hasting would cause an unnecessary mess. Once they were gone as well, the washcloth lovingly caressed both of her shins until they were clean once again. During her chore, she (with no innuendos implied) considered ridding Misaka of her bloodied skirt as well, but she knew that would ultimately earn her a smack in the jaw, no matter how pure her intentions.

However... It felt irresponsible to leave her as she was. She was filthy- an awful condition for resting. She could not leave the idea alone. However, a nervous vein in the back of her head made Kuroko nervous to proceed without any sort of permission, so she looked up to Misaka once again.

"Hey, Sissy..." she started. "You probably haven't looked recently since... you know, it hasn't been the most concerning thing that's happened so far... um... Your skirt doesn't look too good. I don't think you should stay in it, so... um..." Her thumbs began to twiddle when she hit a wall. "I'm not trying at anything. Honest." Misaka still had not awoken enough to answer. Thus, she remained silent, eyes lightly closed. Awkwardly, Kuroko's gaze darted back and forth between her face and wound until she became impatient. "If you don't say anything, I'll take it as a yes. Better speak up soon..."

As expected, Misaka did not speak up. Kuroko knew she wouldn't, but it made her feel better to at least trick herself into believing she had permission. If Misaka had a problem with it later, she would gladly take the punishment. After all, the comfort of reassurance beat physical comfort any day. As she took a seat at the edge of the bed, she began to work.

It did not surprise Kuroko to be met with a pesky pair of shorts once she rid her of the bloodied skirt. Unlike that skirt, the shorts had been spared from crimson... for the most part, at least. Some specks dotted the hem, but they were easily manageable.

That wasn't what surprised Kuroko.

What surprised Kuroko was Misaka's undershirt, which had been tucked into her shorts. Kuroko knew her Misaka better; seldom did she tuck in that shirt. A few minutes of baffled staring eventually turned into an investigation... a modest and careful investigation, since it involved probing Misaka's stomach. She did not rouse from being touched, most likely because it was not her Kuroko touched in the first place. The tip of her finger collided not with the squishiness of flesh, but with something far more taut. Paper, she conjectured, but she would not know for sure until she pinched the shirt and evicted it from her shorts. Without losing control of herself, she reached inside, felt for the mystery object, and quickly yanked it out.

Papers they were indeed, warmed from pressing against Misaka's bare skin. Without a moment's hesitation, her eyes sprinted across nightmarishly sloppy handwriting. Some words were words she could not read, but the rest gave her enough clues to fill in the blanks. Her name, first and last, was scattered all over the paper, packed in the midst of multiple paragraphs. As she read them, her brows started to drop. She knew what these were. They were the counselor's notes from her only appointment a few months ago.

She spent a long while reading the papers over and over again, hoping to decipher some sort of meaning. Misaka would not take those papers for no reason, she was sure, and yet there seemed to be no reason for Misaka to take them at all. They were just ordinary documents! Ordinary observations of an ordinary student recorded by an ordinary counselor. Not a single thing struck her as odd until...

Threshold Fever.

Those two unfamiliar words were slapped across the diagnosis tab on the final page, and they made Kuroko pause and wonder. The counselor, who swore not to know her condition, lied to her. Without even notifying her, she labeled it "Threshold Fever"... Whatever _that_ happened to be. With her teeth grazing across her lips, she perused the papers for additional clues, but they left her empty-handed.

Threshold Fever...

Threshold Fever...

Threshold Fever!

She felt as though she had heard the term before, yet, at the same time, her mind drew blanks as to where it could have possibly been. School, perhaps? No, it would have been on a test if she learned it in school, and it was difficult to forget something after months upon months full of cramming. The more she tried to grasp the memory, the more it slipped away from her. Eventually, it came to the point where she concluded the word was completely foreign to her.

The depths to which her busy, and exhausted, mind wandered almost made her oblivious to Misaka, who started to move. Kuroko caught her just in time, and while she turned to face her, Misaka snatched the papers. Her solemn eyes ran over the front page before her hand padded her stomach. She shot Kuroko a threatening gaze before slapping the packet onto her thighs. All the while, Kuroko modestly laced her fingers together and nestled them upon her lap, anxiously waiting for something to depart from her neighbor's lips.

"Guess you've read through this by now," Misaka presumed, to which Kuroko gently nodded.

"Um... Yeah..." She shook her head and scooted nearer, hands darting to her face. "Forget that. How're you feeling? Your forehead's a bit clammy..." As Kuroko retrieved the damp washcloth from the end table, Misaka's eyes averted from her. They gazed blankly at the ceiling as if puzzled, attempting to piece things together. The washcloth dotted her face delicately as she blinked.

"I feel... dizzy."

"You would be after losing a lot of blood. It's lucky the doctor had the time to patch you up before we had to leave the hospital. I'd have no idea how to treat you properly otherwise..."

Misaka paused. It all came rushing back to her. The hospital. The strangers that followed them there. The things they said. The manner in which one perished... It all made her head spin even more, and she felt sicker within seconds. She pinned the blame on the washcloth dabbing her face because it was the only tangible thing available to her, so she caught Kuroko's wrist threateningly.

She wanted to cope with the stress alone.

"Sugar's supposed to help with this kinda stuff, isn't it?" Thanks to a brief recollection of interning at the school's blood drive, she knew there was no way she could possibly be wrong. All she had to do was ask the question to set Kuroko on her feet and begin toward the door, prepared to obey her command.

"I'll find a vending machine. Don't try anything while I'm gone." She disappeared from the room without using the door.

Left behind, Misaka released a long pent-up sigh, an action she found quite therapeutic, and drug a hand across her forehead. It was still moist from where the washcloth had kissed her, so when wind from the fan beat against her face, she felt refreshingly cool. She did not toy with her face for fear of disturbing her only comfort.

When she groaned and lifted her head slightly, she grimaced at the sight of her shorts, exposed for all the world to see. On the room's other bed, just an end table apart from the one she claimed her own, rested her bloodied skirt. The bridge of her nose crumpled as she slammed her head back onto the pillow, growling in the meantime:

"Damn girl."

Her anger vanished upon realizing that the soot, which once caked over her skin, had disappeared. It had been evicted by the washcloth, who now suffered from the dirtiness that was once hers. She could only assume Kuroko cleaned her, which wasn't exactly something she could be ungrateful for. Torn, Misaka mewled. Remembering the paper that rested upon her thigh made her head spin again. Her mouth began to feel slimy, warning her of an unpleasant nausea. Because she was a rather determined girl, she sucked it up and clicked her tongue.

"You... damn girl..." The second time she uttered such a sentence, it was not Kuroko that came to mind. Instead, it was a certain blonde girl. She was (supposedly) the same age as she, blessed in the chest, and had peculiar, hypnotic eyes. Misaki Shokuhou was her name, and the thought of her face made Misaka's blood boil. "You're probably laughing your butt off right now. Can't wait to hear all the 'I told you so's from your yap."

 _"You'll slip up eventually, Railgun, so you need someone who'll be there to break your fall,"_ Misaki's words replayed in her head, which strengthened her scowl. She sure slipped up indeed tonight, getting shot by a silly little gun. As Misaki so expertly predicted, the arms of a certain teleporter went out of their way to catch her. They drug her to a place of safety and defended her when she could not. In return, those arms received nothing, not even an explanation.

Beyond the room's only window, whose curtains were drawn aside, an orange spec glowed amongst the chilly blue Academy City. She knew what that orange spec was. After all, it was all her doing in the first place. For what reason would she cause such havoc? It was for those papers sitting on her lap, waiting to be read. Her legs grew sore from all the running, and adrenaline ran dry. Stilled by fatigue, a small tear built in the corner of her eye. One of her fingers wiped it away insistently.

"No more running..." she whispered to herself.

It was the calm in the wake of the storm; Kuroko stood face-to-face with a vending machine she'd found just down their hallway, browsing its not-so-modest selection. One dilemma turned into another, it seemed, for, instead of being chased by strangers, Kuroko was presented with quite the challenge: finding Misaka the ideal snack.

Many would scoff at her for such a trifle, but that many were ultimately fools. If they understood just how much Kuroko valued getting Misaka the best, and only the best, they'd gasp and fret alongside her. This was _Misaka_ she was shopping for, after all! What a task! By some stroke of luck, if it had been, say, _Uiharu_ that burned down her school, got herself shot, and rested in a random hotel room, Kuroko would have grabbed a bag of melon gummies without a second thought.

The traffic of thoughts rushing through her head halted upon the appearance of one thought more: did she even have the money to pay for anything? She checked her pockets, only to turn white upon finding them both empty save for her cell phone and a paperclip. Nervously munching on her bottom lip did not alleviate her financial status. Returning to the room empty-handed was not an option. Not tonight.

Brainstorming left her with two options: the foremost, and prettiest, which would be requesting an item while praying someone accidentally left unspent money in the machine; the nuclear, and ugliest, which would be teleporting the pane of glass out of her way and robbing the machine. The latter was her nuclear option because, if she were caught in the act, it would not look good on a Judgment officer to steal from a vending machine.

After spending an indecent amount of time debating over whether or not she should get Misaka the milk balls (since they had Gekota on the package), Kuroko finally settled on a bag of Pocky, since she saw Misaka munching on a few days earlier. She carefully studied its number before punching the corresponding buttons. Nothing happened, leaving her frazzled. After sucking in a long, painful breath, she checked to make sure she was not being watched.

She froze and reddened at the sight of a man who made his way toward her with a frown on his face. Dressed completely in his pajamas, nothing seemed terribly off about him, which gave her the comfort to release her guard. He did not seem to care much for her either... until their eyes met, during which they both recognized one another. Kuroko had seen this man before; it was the man who rent the room she accidentally intruded. Her guard resurrected the moment she saw him reach into the pocket in his robe. What could he be going for, she wondered. More importantly, why was he staring directly at her as he dug?

The rattling of change made the situation clear, so she migrated from the machine and pressed her back against the wall. He continued to stare at her as if he did not get the message. With no other choice, she reluctantly allowed her lips to part, and her throat cleared.

"I'm still deciding," she announced, which promoted the stranger to shrug and stuff some change into the machine. He seemed to know exactly what he wanted, otherwise he would not have punched in the numbers so quickly. As the coil slowly began to deliver his purchase, the man peeked over his shoulder, studying the girl strangely. His eyes caught the splotches of blood that climbed up the side of her skirt and the hem of her white shirt.

"Everything okay, missy?" he inquired softly, to which Kuroko quickly nodded.

"Just having a rough night's all..." Hopefully, her Judgment sash, which she forgot to remove, would tell a story that would satisfy his curiosity. She could only assume it did, since he didn't ask any further questions... or it might have been because, when he returned to the vending machine, he met an unsavory sight: his vegetable crackers were caught on the coil.

"Isn't that rotten luck..." he mewled, reminiscent of a certain boy she knew (and loathed). She approached his side, studied the situation, and began to brainstorm. She could use that nifty new power of hers... if she had touched the vegetable crackers before, which she hadn't. Strange: a power that seemed so frightening couldn't get her a bag of crackers from a vending machine. She had no choice but to set her fingers across the glass and send it elsewhere. Once inside, she reached for the stubborn bag and handed it to the man. He stared at her strangely before finally accepting her offer, muttering his thanks in return.

Kuroko was more than happy to help if it got rid of him sooner. Thankfully, it did, since he walked away fairly quickly. Once he disappeared beyond eyeshot, her plotting eyes slid back over to the smorgasbord before her, and she took only what she needed: Pocky and lime soda, both in pairs. After placing the glass back in its rightful place, she fled from the scene of the crime without a single witness.

The food was administered to Misaka once she was propped against the bed's headboard, and it pleased Kuroko greatly to see her take well to her selection. The lime soda, being a favorite of Misaka's, was not subject to as much worry as the Pocky, which both gladly munched on in the silence. Their sodas, being two of the same kind, were at risk of being mixed up, sitting right next to one another on the end table. Neither seemed to care if they ended up drinking the other's.

"I'll bet this is all over the news by now..." Misaka mumbled, the first to break the ice between them.

"It was on the T.V. in the hospital."

Misaka finished chewing on her most recent stick before a light string of electricity erected from her head, and it struck the remote beside their soda cans. Like magic, the television on the wall sprung to life with the latest cheesy sitcom. Moments afterward, Kuroko scrambled for that same remote and began to search for local channels. The first news outlet they found surrendered the information they wanted: helicopter footage of a burning Tokiwadai with a menacing banner: one dead, two missing.

Immediately, Kuroko's heart sank. Misaka's face remained unreadable. As Kuroko nervously turned to the girl against the headboard, her eyes widened.

"Looks like they've already noticed we're not there," Kuroko commented.

"We'll need a story for when we go back."

The mere thought of returning to Tokiwadai made Kuroko's neck hurt. Thankfully, the sight of Misaka taking a final sip from her can distracted her. Frowning, she shook the empty can with distaste, but Kuroko quickly appeased her by offering what was left in her own. Gladly, Misaka took her up on the offer.

As Misaka return to her Pocky, Kuroko watched, eyes dulling. Her feet, which dangled over the edge of Misaka's bed, began to draw circles in the air. Then, the backs of her heels beat against the bed's wooden frame. A sigh exited her nose.

"Someone's dead, Sissy." She looked her in the eye. "Because of what you did, someone died."

Misaka's expression still did not change.

"In the end, it might've been for nothing."

"For _what?_ " Kuroko balled the comforter into an uncomfortable grip. "You're starting to think this whole fiasco was for _nothing?_ "

Misaka's fingers held another breadstick to her mouth, and she carefully nibbled on it. Really carefully. Very carefully. So carefully, in fact, it consumed her. She was no longer aware of Kuroko's hardened eyes, nor the orange dot outside their window, nor the flames consuming the television screen. Her mouth opened on its own accord.

"I need to talk to you, Kuroko."

At the remote's command, the television left them to carry their conversation in peace. Shaking, Kuroko waited in silence, watching as Misaka continued with her dinner. Of course, she was bound to eventually get impatient enough to where it showed.

"There were some bad things in the administration building," Misaka started as she lifted the counselor's papers. "Bad things like these."

"This sounds like it has to do with the issue I had a month ago."

"Yep," she agreed. "This entire incident... I want everything about it to disappear."

Kuroko could only guess as to why, and she didn't like to wonder for long. Snatching the papers from Misaka's limp hand was no challenge, and neither was flipping to the packet's final page. Her eyes grazed across it before coming to a stop. They stared directly at the words that puzzled her the most.

"Does it have to do with this 'Threshold Fever' I was diagnosed with?"

"Yep."

"What is it?"

Misaka took the time to slowly nibble on another breadstick. How dreadfully slow did she chew on it. She did it on purpose. Perhaps she was trying to avoid answering, or maybe she was trying to think of the best way to explain.

"It's a type of fever."

"Shocker, that one," Kuroko snarked.

"I'm not in the mood to talk about this, okay? Cut me some slack." But she had to talk about it. No more running, she promised herself, and she would never think well of herself again if she broke that promise. "It's not caused by any germ or whatever... It's not a normal sickness. Sometimes... An esper just gets it, you know? Mostly after they work themselves too hard for too long, I think." This time, she shoved a Pocky into her mouth and downed it with only a few chews. "I had it once, back when I was a Level Four. One day my powers just stopped working, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get them back. It was probably one of the most frightening days of my life... But I had the luxury of having the whole ordeal explained to me, unlike you. The doctors said it was a pivotal point in my progress toward being a Level Five: if I kept on pressing, my powers would eventually come back, and they'd be stronger than ever before... Or, I could rest, and everything would turn back to normal in a month or so. I chose not to rest. I kept working. I got very sick one day, sure enough, and my powers returned. Next thing I knew, I was a Level Five."

A carbon copy of Kuroko's case, it seemed. It disheartened her to have such a similarity, surprisingly enough; during her time of powerlessness, it was Misaka that pushed her to rest. It was Misaka that urged her to do nothing. It was Misaka that proposed they begin a new life... And through it all, it was Misaka that knew the truth.

"You must not want me to be a Level Five." She made extra sure to make the spite in her voice detectable. Misaka was no dummy.

"I don't," she agreed. "And I curse the day I decided to overcome that blasted Threshold Fever... I was naive, not knowing what the hell I was getting myself into... Hell... That's what it was. Being a Level Five is Hell, Kuroko... And I knew it would be worse for you."

When Misaka's palm slapped against her face to hide her eyes, Kuroko knew it was time to move closer.

"S-Sissy...?" She gently removed the package from her other hand and placed it on the nightstand. A sniffle erupted from Misaka's nose, widening her audience's eyes; she wept, Kuroko realized. She dared to open her mouth. "What happened?"

"If you saw even half of the things I've seen... The things this city is willing to do in the name of science..." The things she saw. Things like reports that documented the murders of over one thousand clones of herself. A dismembered leg laying on the rocky ground of a train yard. A live feed in District Twenty-Three, camera lenses blinded by crimson blood. The wicked bloodlust in the eyes of the patriarch of espers. "I want to keep you from those things. They're things... I'd never wish for you to see, no matter how angry you've made me..." One tear escaped the oppression of her palm. "But those things have started to come after you, now. You overcame the Threshold Fever. You're going to be considered a Level Five. It's your turn to be inducted into all this madness... but I swear... I swear that'll only happen over my dead body. I'll destroy... I'll kill... Whatever means I have to take, I'll take them so long as that information never spreads..."

But that information had already spread. It had spread beyond Tokiwadai. It lurked in the many offices of the massive city they called home, available to sinister and harmless eyes alike. The thought of the bloody cycle repeating, for Kuroko of all people, sent Misaka into the youth of a frenzy she fought to control. But then she was reminded of something. It tamed her urge to wail in somber agony. She was not alone. Instead, a familiar specimen of relief washed over her. It was the same relief she found in the face of a seemingly talentless, black-haired boy that once came to her rescue. That relief... how she missed it. It humbly approached her in the arms of her closest friend. Kuroko buried her face in the crook of her neck.

"Sometimes I hate you with all my guts. You think you can get away with anything by yourself, you narcissus. When are you going to finally get it through your thick skull that you can't?"

She never thought she'd find comfort in the arms of the girl that often made her the most uncomfortable. Strangely enough, she'd never felt more comfortable in the world. As her eyes closed, she gladly returned the embrace, holding her the tightest she could. If she let go, she feared Kuroko would disappear.

"I don't know..."

A night of terror and death ended on tranquility, even in the face of unusual circumstances.

In preparation for bed, Kuroko rid herself of her own bloodied skirt. The stale air amongst them did not tolerate for any wanton comments or reactions, even after Kuroko requested companionship in bed. Misaka allowed it, for a peaceful faith in her friend numbed any precautions.

When the lights went out, the two remained quiet, respectfully segregated from one another beneath the covers. The hotel's bed, which was far larger than the twins that once inhabited their dorm, allowed for the two to comfortably stretch themselves out without brushing against the other. Misaka faced the wall. Kuroko faced the window, where the orange dot could still be seen burning in the distance. The sight harbingered unpleasant memories from hours before, memories which spooked her closer to Misaka, who had barely dozed off.

"Sissy?" she heard Kuroko ask. With a painful groan, Misaka flipped herself over, using the least of her injured leg. Her eyes met her companion's.

"Hm?"

"Do you mind if...?"

"If what?"

Kuroko migrated nearer instead of finishing her question. Or, perhaps, the act of migrating nearer was finishing the question. Misaka filled in the blanks before sighing. Her irises softened kindly in the face of her friend, who gazed back longingly.

"Sure," she agreed, allowing Kuroko to do the work. Her junior predictably embraced her with exuberant arms, and her skinny legs wrapped around her only good leg. Against the front of her neck, she nestled her face comfortably. From there, she became still, palms spreading across her back.

"Good night," Kuroko whispered.

"Good night." Now facing the window, Misaka was forced to look at what she had done. The flames continued to burn, refusing to be extinguished. That was their life she looked at, wailing as it blackened into ash. Luckily, that wasn't all that mattered. What ultimately mattered was the girl resting against her, breathing in the softest breaths. She was there, unharmed. In due time, she would learn all the truths of the city she had sworn to protect. Those truths would break her, surely... but those truths weren't urgent... not now, at least. They decided to live in the soft, tender moment that was the present. They cherished it while it was theirs, for it was a fleeting moment bound to disappear in the blinking of an eye.

After planting a slight kiss on her underling's crown, Misaka found sweet, uninterrupted rest.

* * *

"Oh, Sissy, I've always hated it when you get that look on your face."

Misaka snapped out of her thoughts to fully face her junior, who accompanied her side as they hopped down into the empty pool. Armed with splintery brooms and pails of fresh water, the two had already begun to be buffeted by the ugly summer sun. It was so ugly, in fact, the hypnotic heatwaves dancing across the pavement had temporarily entranced the girl. After blinking, she heaved a sigh and planted her fist on her hip.

"I get like this every time I look at that dump over there."

Both turned to observe the empty lot to their right. Just beyond the fence that guarded the pool area, over the horizon, several trucks and workers crowded the scene, shoveling the remains of ash and brick. After nearly an entire month, that lot, also known as the campus' administration building, was just barely getting clean enough for the beginning of a replacement. Quite a ruckus was being worked up over there. That was how it was every day: clean-up, clean-up, clean-up. The cause of such a mess was unknown to every soul save for three individuals.

"Like you said, you did what you had to do," Kuroko reasoned.

"True, but it just reminds me of what more I have to do..." Misaka dropped her pail onto the ground and dunked her broom inside, prepared for work. "It's sweltering out here, so let's hurry and get it over with."

Kuroko watched Misaka, standing perfectly still as she leaned against her broom. Her eyes narrowed when Misaka turned her back on her.

"Just _you?_ " she echoed distastefully. It was enough to make Misaka pause and cautiously crane her neck back around. She thought for a while before returning to her broom.

"I guess you're coming too."

"That's more like it."

"Are you sure you can handle it? I've stayed out all night before."

"And I've stayed up all night waiting for you to come back."

"It'll be dangerous." She began scrubbing.

"Not with the two of us." Kuroko waltzed to her side and joined her.

"You'll see a side of me you probably haven't seen before."

"And I'll love every bit of it anyways."

As unprovoked as it was, the sound of Misaka chuckling made Kuroko's heart soar. Misaka planted a kiss in the heart of her palm, which smacked her friend in the forehead. Dazed, a furious blush spread across the recipient's cheeks.

"We'll see about that, kiddo."

And the two carried on, lightened by the other's company.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Us Kuroko fans like to think of what-ifs when it comes to Kuroko becoming a Level Five, and this was my take on it. It doesn't sound anywhere near canonical, but hey, I haven't found anything that said this couldn't happen. Oh well, Fanfiction's Fanfiction. That's what this crazy website is for. Thanks for your support!**

 **For those who might be interested, I have a one-shot that is also about Kuroko on my account. If you enjoyed this silly little thing, I highly recommend checking it out. Additionally, I feel I should mention that I plan on adding a humorous bonus chapter on this story in the future. Stayed tuned, and have a great day.**


	10. Bonus: In Which Kuroko Meets the Sisters

It was a Wednesday. Kuroko normally worked after school on Wednesdays, but not on this particular Wednesday. Why? It was because Kuroko was far too busy obeying the thermometer's plea for freedom from Misaka's mouth. Face flat, her caramel eyes judged the numbers displayed across the device's measly screen. Her frown steepened as she took a seat upon the edge of the bed.

"Thirty-eight degrees," she announced.

"That isn't high enough..." Misaka paused to cough. "To be considered a fever..."

Kuroko had to simply hold out a hand. Seconds after she summoned a voluptuous medical encyclopedia, she discovered she needed two hands instead. For obvious reasons, the book had been seldom used. Kuroko only recalled it because she happened to push it aside a week ago while settling into their new, but temporary, dorm. For once, the recollection served her well. After furiously turning through centuries of discoveries, diagnoses, and cures, she finally landed on her desired page. She already knew the answer, but her prejudice eyes swam through paragraphs of microscopic text for affirmation.

"That doesn't seem to be what the Mayo Clinic thinks," she corrected smoothly.

"Who cares about what they think?"

"Almost everyone."

"I don't."

"Of course..."

Despite aching all over, Misaka tossed and turned with malice, sounding with heinous groans.

"I can't have this today. Anytime but today..."

Something important to Misaka was to occur on that day? Kuroko would not settle for being the quiet bystander; she simply had to butt in and help whichever way she could! Passion propelled her hand to shut the book in her lap with force, momentarily scaring the latter out of her skin.

"What's the matter, Sissy? Do you need to be somewhere today? Tell me! I'll go for you."

"Don't you have work?"

"Yes, but I've hoarded my sick days for this sort of emergency. I'll do whatever'll make you feel better. I swear!"

Hopeless, the sickling sunk deeper into the embrace of mountains of blankets.

"You won't care."

"It has to do with you, and I care about anything that has to do with you."

"You really wouldn't!"

"I would too, Sissy!"

"Why're we shouting?"

"Because! You simply don't understand the depths of my-"

"Alright! Fine! There's an exclusive one-day giveaway of Gekota keychains at the phone tower. There's supposed to be some politician speaking there, but that's not what I care about... I just want one of the stupid keychains he's giving out."

The room became quiet.

As one who boasted absolute, unyielding trust in Mikoto Misaka, Kuroko at last struck a vein of hypocrisy; though she guaranteed otherwise, it turned out that Misaka was right. Kuroko did not care at all. She could not properly tally Misaka's collection of frog-shaped pieces of plastic. The number was much too great. Much too intimidating. She had a phone case, cell phone straps, plushes, figurines, keychains, bath bombs, pajamas... underwear... The last thing that girl needed was more to add to that hoard!

However, it was important to recall that entire collection shared the same fate as the building it called home. It was all nothing more than a few grains of ashes that joined the mountain on the opposite side of the campus. Kuroko detested the idea of allowing Misaka to rebuild her collection. Had she not realized how childish it made her look? This was a chance for her to finally behave like the refined, mature, and glorious star she was!

But Kuroko had one weakness when it came to her opposition: Misaka's pitifully somber expression, which buried itself back into her pillow. In an interval of silence, Kuroko stared at the back of her beloved's head, lips sinking into a disappointed scowl.

How puny was her supposedly strong constitution!

"I'll get it for you..." she muttered. The agreement lured Misaka onto her back, where she stared at her friend, bewilderment in her eyes.

"Will you? Really?"

"Certes, my dear. I'll lie down my every prejudice for your sake. For your happiness, I will embrace this upcoming storm! No matter how choppy the waters, no matter how coarse the tides, I'll cut through the mire with the edge of my ship and prosper. If ever my ship tips or rips, goodness forbid, I can still tread the sea. Never shall I drown, for I know what responsibilities crave my tending. I shan't disappoint them! I shan-"

"Thanks, Kuroko. You aren't so bad after all."

Kuroko calmed her drama into a pause, where she stared at her love in the silence.

* * *

Down the isles of the district's nearest drug store, Kuroko hunted for her prey: fever reducer, which she distastefully found missing from their medicine cabinet back home. She was so fixated on her mission at hand that she happened to miss the cashier greet her on her way in. For once, it was okay for her to seem rude; she had to be at the cellphone tower by sixteen hundred, otherwise she'd miss the opportunity to capture Misaka's favor.

It displeased her to be greeted by a plethora of different brands of fever reducer in the medicine isle, where she froze and stared. The longer she looked, the more overwhelmed she became. With a spinning head, she closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and gently unknotted the knots in her shoulders. She returned to the selection with a vengeance.

 _"There's quite a variety here, but Sissy deserves only the very best this store has to offer. Maybe I should get one of each and let her pick? Let's tally how much that would cost me. Hm... This one's fourteen hundred, thirteen hundred, eight hundred, nineteen hundred..."_ With each addition, her face sank lower. Upon counting the final box of medicine and adding for a grand total, a faint quarrel erupted in the pit of her stomach. Shaking her head, she shut her eyes tightly. _"Blast. Buying one of each will leave my budget in shambles for at least three months. I'll have to narrow it down to a smaller number. Three, maybe? No. Five's a prettier number, but if I choose quantity, I'll sacrifice quality. What makes quality fever reducer anyhow? Would the best quality product be the most expensive? No, probably not. Ingredients would be a better thing to look at instead."_ She captured a random hostage and interrogated it for answers. However, the prisoner spoke a language she could not understand, leaving her efforts useless. _"Carrageenan, castor oil, corn starch, titanium dioxide, magnesium stearate, hypro... mellose...? Like I know what any of that's supposed to be."_ As she returned her inmate back to its home, her eyes subtly glossed to the side. The front counter met her, where its attendant fiddled behind a shelf. _"Guess I have no choice but to lie down my pride and get a recommendation."_

Striding to the counter did her nothing besides evoking even more questions, for, when the attendant emerged from hiding to greet her, Kuroko's heart stilled. As her eyes widened, the employee drew nearer, eventually pausing before the counter.

Was she dreaming?

Was she hallucinating?

Mikoto Misaka stood right in front of her!

It was a mystery how she changed out of her pajamas and into her uniform so quickly, and her face somehow returned to its original, unflushed state. It was as if weeks had gone by; Misaka's fever was cured, and she also got herself a job at the drug store!

But one thing was off: her eyes. Where there should have been a spark, a reflection from the light above them... there was dullness. She had the eyes of a dead person's... or one of those creepy dolls Kongou had a knack for collecting. Her emotionless face easily slipped into the valley of the uncanny, which promptly sent a chill down her observer's spine.

"'Welcome,' MISAKA greets politely to the customer," the girl greeted politely to the customer.

In response, Kuroko whitened.

 _"C-Could it be? Did that common fever permanently damage Sissy's brain to the point where she doesn't remember me and is deduced to speaking in the third person?"_ she thought to herself fearfully, tempted to back away. In the meantime, the hairs on the back of her neck erected.

"'You seem pale,' MISAKA observes, silently assuming the customer is seeking medication to treat the condition," Misaka observed, silently assuming the customer was seeking medication to treat the condition. "'I am not a doctor, but I might be able to provide the proper treatment if you describe your symptoms,' MISAKA adds in attempt to offer assistance to the customer as her manager instructed."

"C-Could... Could you stop talking like that, please?" Kuroko found it difficult to get that much out. She was beginning to conclude that this wasn't her dear Misaka that she spoke with, but that only brought up more questions.

"'Stop talking like what?' MISAKA inquires while raising her brow to emphasize her inability to comprehend the customer's request," Misaka inquired while raising her brow to emphasize her inability to comprehend the customer's request. The nonsense morphed Kuroko's confusion into frustration.

"Like _that,"_ she replied, a little less polite. One of her hands spread across the surface of the counter as she leaned nearer. "Look, it's one thing to go around impersonating _my_ Sissy, but it's another to mock me the way you're mocking me right now. I'll let this slide if you cut that act and help me find some fever reducer."

The knockoff stared back at Kuroko with her lifeless eyes as if she attempted to compute some sort of response. Compute was a good word to attribute to the girl; as if she were some sort of android, her tone sounded with little emotion, and her movements were rigid. Kuroko did not know how much longer she could stare the girl down before she was creeped out enough to back off.

"'I am unsure as to why you would insist that I am impersonating someone,' MISAKA replies after a thorough session of reflection. 'It is possible that I simply look similar to someone you know, but it is not something that is worth being discussed any further,' MISAKA conjectures in attempt to resolve the tension between she and the customer, hoping it would prevent any sort of unnecessary conflict. 'However,' MISAKA continues, 'I can most certainly assist you with the requested product. Right this way,' finishes MISAKA as she departs from behind the counter, careful not to trip on the carpet trim like she did the day before," finished Misaka as she departed from behind the counter, careful not to trip on the carpet trim like she did the day before.

Flustered, Kuroko followed close behind, making extra sure not to turn her back on the strange girl. She led her right back to where she had once stood contemplating, and it was little to her amusement. After turning back around to face her, the attendant motioned to her right.

"'This is our selection of fever reducers,' explains MISAKA as she directs her hand to the fever reducer section of isle number three. 'While you browse, I will be making my way back to the cash register to prepare for our exchange,' MISAKA adds as she begins to walk toward the front counter from which she had just departed," Misaka added as she began to walk toward the front counter from which she had just departed.

"Hold it," Kuroko growled, making the employee halt. "I'm not done."

"'Oh? What further assistance do you require?' asks MISAKA, silently wishing the illiberal girl had chosen a different drug store instead of the one at which MISAKA works," asked Misaka, silently wishing the illiberal girl had chosen a different drug store instead of the one at which Misaka worked.

Kuroko's patience began to run dry.

"I'm here to pick up some medicine for someone that's very special to me, so I want only the best this place has to offer." She eased closer. "I'm sure you've heard of her. It's the girl you're _obviously_ trying to imitate? The _original_ girl who dresses the way you do?"

"'The original?' echoes MISAKA, recognizing the term," echoed Misaka, recognizing the term.

"Yeah. Everyone knows that I, Kuroko Shirai, am the property of none other than Mikoto Misaka herself, so I know this is a little game you're playing. You're not Mikoto Misaka, you sham. If you knew even half of how offended you're making me, impersonating my Sissy..."

"'I _am_ Misaka,' affirms MISAKA with an ironclad tone," affirmed Misaka with an ironclad tone.

"Not _Mikoto_ Misaka," Kuroko argued.

"'I must inform you that your stance is incorrect, for myself and Misaka are one in the same,' MISAKA explains, giving up hope that the illiberal girl can be reasoned with," Misaka explained, giving up hope that the illiberal girl can be reasoned with.

"How so?"

"ZXC741ASD852QWE963-."

The train, once chugging full steam ahead, came to a screeching halt. While baring with the painful noises of rusted metal wheels scratching against rusted metal tracks, Kuroko's face softened. Confusion mixed with anger before it eventually enveloped her entire expression. After blinking, she returned to being weary of the girl.

"Excuse me?"

"ZXC741ASD852QWE963-."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"'I seek password confirmation,' answers MISAKA, expressing doubt that the illiberal girl could properly respond," answered Misaka, expressing doubt that the illiberal girl could properly respond. "'Judging by your inability to respond correctly, you were not involved in the experiment. Therefore, I am unable to answer your question,' concludes MISAKA firmly, hoping the subject will change to something more comfortable," concluded Misaka firmly, hoping the subject would change to something more comfortable.

Baffled, Kuroko stared even longer at the girl, waiting until she turned back around to return to the front counter. Eyes narrowing, Kuroko watched the girl with extreme prejudice, teeth grinding against one another.

"Well, you may hide _your_ argument behind some password, but _I'm_ more than happy to reveal mine." She teleported closer to the girl, whose back remained turned to her. One of her sneaky fingers, skilled from practice, pinched the bottom of the girl's skirt and promptly lifted it. Beneath the garment, prejudice eyes found stripes, not Gekota. In response to Kuroko's act, the fake paused, slowly turned around, and gave her a deathly glare. Kuroko was too smug to be intimidated by the expression. "Heh. Knew it. You may _think_ you're Mikoto Misaka's biggest fan, but you don't know her with even half the intimacy that I do. She is _my_ Sissy after all. Sissy won't ever admit to it, but she adores her limited edition 'Gekota: Teamwork is the Cure' panties. She washes the entire set every Friday so she can wear them during the week. Today's Wednesday, so she should be wearing the pair with the orange polka dots with the winking Gekota face. But what's this I've found here? White and blue stripes? Preposterous! Sissy probably won't even _consider_ those until she's at least seventeen." With her eyes half-lided, Kuroko ebbed even nearer, raising a brow. "Gig's up. I win."

"'It has recently come to my knowledge that revealing one's undergarments is deemed socially unacceptable in public spaces,' states MISAKA, recalling the employee training video she watched two weeks ago. 'Title Seven of the JAUW's Civil Rights bill prohibits sexual harassment in the workplace, and any misconducts must be reported to the authorities immediately,' adds MISAKA before heading to the store's landline with the intention to call the police," added Misaka before heading to the store's landline with the intention to call the police.

Kuroko then realized she had made a mistake.

"W-Wait. Hold on. We're both girls here, aren't we?" she inquired while recalling Saten's constant shenanigans with Uiharu. She followed closely behind the girl as she made her way back to the front. "It's fine when it's just girls messing around. Boys are a different story."

"'Your pattern of speech, especially in regard to the original, leads me to believe you are what is called a _homosexual_ , a natural phenomenon in which one organism is sexually attracted to members of the same sex,' explains MISAKA calmly as she picks up the telephone. 'Seeing that the both of us are female, I take your misconduct as an unwanted sexual advance, and it must be reported,' MISAKA finishes as she dials for the police station," Misaka finished as she dialed for the police station.

It was set in stone: the phony was not changing her mind, likely because she was fixated on revenge for losing the argument. Kuroko had no choice but to flee the scene, no different than the petty criminals she chased almost every day. After she disappeared, the cashier's eyes narrowed, and she gently replaced the handset on the base.

"'A mere description will not be good enough for the police to catch the criminal,' mutters MISAKA, disappointed that the perpetrator has escaped. 'It is necessary that I upload the image to the MISAKA Network,' MISAKA adds as she begins to open the MISAKA network, calling to its many members."

 _"'What is the matter, MISAKA-14458?' inquires MISAKA-19003 after receiving the image uploaded by MISAKA-14458."_

"'A mishap has occurred in my workplace,' answers MISAKA-14458, glad to receive an instantaneous response from MISAKA-19003. 'Unfortunately, I am not permitted to leave the store during my shift, so I must ask a favor of you,' adds MISAKA-14458 as she uploads an additional picture of the perpetrator for an improved reference selection. 'The girl you now see is one _Kuroko Shirai._ She has sexually assaulted me, and sexual assault violates Title Seven of the JAUW's Civil Rights bill. It is vital that she is apprehended and punished for her misbehavior,' elaborates MISAKA-14458."

 _"'I agree with your solution. It has come to our attention that sexual assault is a serious crime,' contributes MISAKA-10044, anger encouraging her to take action against the menace."_

 _"'I will gladly set my errands aside to assist in the apprehension,' adds MISAKA-17768 while returning her groceries to their respective shelves, receiving strange looks from fellow shoppers."_

 _"'What?' exclaims MISAKA MISAKA angrily. 'Anyone who dares to pick on MISAKA MISAKA or her sisters will face the consequences!' adds MISAKA MISAKA as her napping roommate yells at her for being too noisy."_

 _"'I will indefinitely call for reinforcements,' states MISAKA-15673, hoping the others will do the same if they have not already."_

As she sighed, the phony's shoulders sank easily, allowing her to find peace.

"'Your concern and efforts are appreciated,' MISAKA-14458 breathes, expressing her gratitude. 'I wish you luck in finding and capturing the perpetrator,' finishes MISAKA-14458."

Kuroko thought she had left that ordeal behind, having delved deeper into the city. Since it was nearing sixteen hundred, she aimed directly for the Hasegawa Cellphone Tower, which was situated in a denser part of the city. Thanks to her nifty esper ability, traveling there was not a concern of hers...

Even though it should've been, since it allowed her to catch the eye of a seemingly random pedestrian. She sat at the bus stop, petting a stray she'd found wandering the streets. Over her auburn bangs was a pair of bulky goggles. A Tokiwadai uniform masked her white undershirt, which was neatly tucked into her skirt. Even if Kuroko flashed by for a second, a second was all the pedestrian needed to take notice.

"'By sheer luck, I've caught eye of the perpetrator on the end of the eightieth block while petting this nice dog I found,' alerts MISAKA-10044, taking her hand from the dog's soft head."

 _"'That is several blocks away from MISAKA-14458's workplace,' notes MISAKA-17768, baffled at how quickly the perpetrator can travel."_

 _"'You should be more focused on tracking down the perpetrator, MISAKA-10044, not petting a dog,' MISAKA-15673 scolds, frustrated by MISAKA-10044's lack of participation."_

"'The perpetrator has demonstrated the possession of spacial movement-type esper abilities,' describes MISAKA-10044, intentionally ignoring MISAKA-15673's frustrated comment. 'This would properly explain why she has covered so much ground,' MISAKA-10044 adds to better explain their enemy."

 _"'I happen to be near the eightieth block,' MISAKA-10055 injects, pleased that her current position has proven advantageous in the situation. 'When my shift is over, I will immediately join in the search,' MISAKA-10055 also mentions, knowing her addition to the resolve will boost the network's morale."_

 _"'I too am near the eightieth block. I'm heading out,' MISAKA-12899 states, leaving the department store in which she had been searching for the perpetrator."_

 _"'MISAKA MISAKA is going to the eightieth block now!' MISAKA MISAKA informs while receiving questioning looks from strangers on the subway. 'MISAKA MISAKA will be there to get a piece of the action too!' MISAKA MISAKA also says to reaffirm MISAKA MISAKA's excitement."_

 _"'In the meantime, we will need to devise a strategy that will give us the advantage in spite of the perpetrator's spacial movement-type abilities,' MISAKA-10053 strategizes while sprinting down the sidewalk of the thirtieth block, starting to lose her breath."_

"'The theory of probability will give us the advantage we need,' MISAKA-10044 assures while rising from the bench, prepared to follow the perpetrator."

She was the subject of a conversation that was literally spread across all of Academy City, but Kuroko knew absolutely nothing about it. She was a bit too fixated on finding that silly rally that supposedly took place in front of the phone tower, a place that did not require too much effort to find. A large, colorful crowd caught her eye, and she felt drawn to it. She knew she was at the right place when she was met with several posters, buttons, fliers, balloons, and banners, each inked with the same picture of the same man. Ever since she was young, Kuroko knew politicians were full of themselves, so a place with a man's face plastered everywhere was likely a politician's rally.

In the midst of a crowd, Kuroko landed on the pavement, unnoticed by her fellow peers. They occupied themselves with watching and listening to a pudgy man standing atop a platform. He spoke loudly, mouth gaping wide with passion for certain words. Perhaps, Kuroko wondered, the man would open his mouth so wide he gobbled the microphone whole. Instead of listening to whatever lies he had to say, she zoned out, pondering on what other drug store offered fever reducer... which was probably just about every other drug store in the city. In a city that housed millions, she was not dry of options, but she wanted to be as quick as she could for her Sissy's sake.

When the people around her began to cheer and clap, Kuroko knew the politician was finished. Like a philanthropist, he welcomed his listeners to refreshments, which would be found on tables right next to the base of the tower. Tending to them was a small army of women, all hard at work. For just a moment, Kuroko was fooled; she saw the politician as a humble, sharing man, but she quickly remembered the way they played their game. They attempted to gain innocent people's votes by swooning them with simple favors. She was familiar with that age-old tactic, being one who employed it (too) many times when it came to Misaka. She knew better than to fall for the trap.

Though she would not fall victim to the sly politician's advances, Kuroko was more than obliged to take advantage of his offerings. Without even the slightest amount of guilt, she teleported her way to the tables, beating those who even had a head start. With only one thing on her mind, she perused the free, but cheap, little mementos. In the meantime, the workers, fresh and peppy, eagerly attempted to grab her attention.

"Thanks for coming! Care for a chocolate covered strawberry?"

Kuroko did take one of those, but, like an unwavering ship, she did not stray from her goal. Her hard, cold eyes remained glued to those tables, searching and searching as though her life depended on it (in some ways, she _had_ convinced herself that her life _did_ depend on it). While looking, she absently sucked on the strawberry she had acquired from the lady, and by the time she finished it, she reached the end of the line. There they were: a box filled with plastic shaped into a familiar green character, a patriotic hachimaki tied around his forehead. With a sense of victory, she smirked.

Until she heard the box's attendant.

"'Thank you for coming,' MISAKA greets her visitor, attempting to sound excited like her employer instructed, likely to further persuade the visitor to vote for him. 'Would you like a limited edition 'Gekota: Adventures in Rainbow World' keychain?' MISAKA offers, secretly reluctant to give away the keychains because she too is interested in having one," Misaka offered, secretly reluctant to give away the keychains because she too is interested in having one.

Kuroko froze, and her eyes widened. Painfully slow, she lifted her head until she was face to face with a familiar, and dear, face: Misaka, except her eyes were still as dull as a doll's. An identical Tokiwadai uniform clothed her body. A pair of bulky goggles covered her forehead, smashing her bangs over her eyebrows. Whitening, Kuroko felt tempted to stutter, but the most she could do was lift a limp finger to point at her.

"Y-Y-You..." Any minute now, she feared, the wailing of police sirens would sound behind her. She might have to flee the city. Heck, maybe even the country. She'd seek refuge all the way in Scandinavia, Finland preferably, and live a secret life, constantly hiding from her trip to the pokey. Would she ever get to see Misaka again? How long would it be? Would Misaka have moved on and started her own life by then? Would she have gotten herself a normal job? Would she have gotten married to that monkey? Would she have had children? Would she have forgotten all about her dear old friend Kuroko? How was Kuroko supposed to make Misaka her wife if she was busy hiding in Finland?

No.

Kuroko wasn't handing Misaka over to Touma Kamijou _that_ easily.

She wasn't running away.

She was going to straighten up. Stand tall. Let nothing knock her down.

She was going to stare her problem in the eye no matter how brightly it shined.

 _"You_ again," Kuroko resounded sternly, the polar opposite of her fearful voice from before. The phony Misaka stared back, seemingly emotionless. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"'The answer is simple: I am not the same MISAKA you saw at the drug store. That was one of my sisters,' explains MISAKA while she connects to the MISAKA Network to relay urgent news to its other users," explained Misaka while she connected to the Misaka Network to relay urgent news to its other users.

"So there's a whole family of you imposters... or is this some kind of Mikoto Misaka-worshipping cult? Sisters... 'Misaka Network'... That does sound a bit cultish. I'm interested in joining."

"'It is impossible for you to join the MISAKA Network, for you are not a MISAKA, nor were you involved in the experiments,' MISAKA replies to keep the perpetrator occupied long enough for the others to arrive," Misaka replied to keep the perpetrator occupied long enough for the others to arrive.

With a frown, Kuroko's brows raised.

"Waiting for _who_ to arrive?"

"'I am waiting for my sisters,' responds MISAKA," responded Misaka.

Unbeknownst to Kuroko, who thought she had the situation under control, a second imposter burst through the skylight on the roof of a nearby department store. She recklessly tossed her book bag on the ground and whipped out a conspicuous hunk of metal. It was conspicuous for a reason; it was a gun.

"'I have eyes on the target and am within firing range,' states MISAKA-15673 while loading her Metal Eater MX with newly purchased MS-222 bullets." A skillful, familiar flick of the loading chamber sealed the winning shot inside the weapon.

 _"'We have successfully calculated potential escape routes the perpetrator may take in the event of a missed shot,' informs MISAKA-12666. 'All hands, report your location,' MISAKA-12666 adds, making sure the others are prepared for the operation."_

 _"'Coordinates: 35° 41.411' 46" N 139° 41.543' 57" E. In position,' confirms MISAKA-10032, readying her weapon in case it is needed."_

 _"'Coordinates: 35° 41.891' 76" N 139° 41.899' 29" E. In position,' confirms MISAKA-10033, taking cover behind a mailbox so that the perpetrator will not see her if she chose to teleport to her location."_

 _"'Coordinates: 35° 40.001' 42" N 139° 41.500' 57.879" E. In position,' confirms MISAKA-10034, unable to withdraw and ready her weapon because her coordinates are in the middle of a crowded restaurant."_

 _"'Coordinates: 35° 35.447' 30" N 139° 40.593' 19.73" E. I'm almost in position,' confirms MISAKA-10035, slowed by a pestering child."_

 _"'That 'pestering' child is MISAKA MISAKA, and MISAKA MISAKA is with MISAKA-10035 to watch!' clarifies MISAKA MISAKA, hoping MISAKA-15673's shot will miss the perpetrator so that she will teleport some place nearer."_

 _"'Coordinates: 35° 20.001' 29" N 139° 41.533' 20.3" E. In position,' confirms MISAKA-10036, unable to report to her precise destination because it is in the middle of a waterway."_

As the locations continued to be relayed through the network, the phony atop the department store fidgeted a while longer with her rifle. The safety was relieved of its duty. The barrel of the gun, to achieve the best stability, propped itself upon her knee. After shoving her goggles down her forehead, she carefully peered into the scope, prepared to take aim.

"'I have the perpetrator in sight. I am prepared to take the shot,' MISAKA-15673 reports, her index finger itching to pull the trigger."

 _"'Fire! Fire!' exclaims MISAKA MISAKA excitedly!"_

As if she were the goddess of good timing, Kuroko's eyes widened in the midst of an intense stare down with the attendant. It was then, when a sudden, and alarming, thought barged into her head. She withdrew, losing the staring match.

"W-Wait a minute... How did _you_ know I was at the drug store?"

Before the fake Misaka could reply, a noise caught their attention. The source of the noise, which sounded right next to the toe of Kuroko's shoe, was a small dart, which now rattled on the ground. Its sharp nose had been bent by the concrete it struck just moments ago. The longer Kuroko stared, the more her heartbeat quickened.

Never mind. Finland it was.

Slowly, she lifted her head once more, spying upon the unamused Misaka. She stared at the dart longer than Kuroko did, but when their eyes met a second time, she cleared her throat.

"'The MS-222 bullet has missed the target's leg by approximately five point twenty-two centimeters,' MISAKA-10055 regrets to report, confident the perpetrator will hurriedly flee the scene now that she realizes she is under attack."

 _"'My apologies. I endeavor to aim more accurately next time,' MISAKA-15673 sighs, overwhelmed by immense embarrassment."_

As expected, Kuroko disappeared the soonest she could, sweat gathering above her furrowed brows. Where she fled was unknown to all but herself, but the conversation that spread across the city furiously scrambled to turn the table.

"'The perpetrator has just fled the scene,' inputs MISAKA-10055, hoping the others will be able to rediscover the perpetrator before she escapes."

 _"'All hands, report if the perpetrator has appeared at your location,' commands MISAKA-12666 firmly to reenforce the severity of the situation."_

 _"'Negative,' reports MISAKA-10032."_

 _"'Negative,' reports MISAKA-10033."_

 _"'Negative,' reports MISAKA-10034."_

 _"'Negative,' reports MISAKA-10035."_

 _"'Negative,' reports MISAKA-10036."_

 _"'Affirmative. I'm taking the shot,' reports MISAKA-12844 while beginning to aim her Metal Eater MX across the street, careful not to accidentally shoot or alarm any uninvolved pedestrians."_

Kuroko landed on the sidewalk after gathering some distance from the cellphone tower, accidentally obstructing a civilian that had been there before her. As she stumbled out of his way, she began to prowl, nervously frowning and fixing her eyes forth. She had to study each and every face that passed her, or else she would surely grow even more uncomfortable. Who knew what other people were part of this strange cult that was now out for her throat? It wasn't Kuroko, and she wasn't in the mood to take her chances.

Past her ran a young woman, who giggled. Nothing seemed off about her, and probably for good reason: she was just a plain, harmless woman, who playfully turned back around to watch a young man rush after her. Two frolicking lovers, Kuroko assumed. She considered admiring them to take off some edge, but she would not get to relax long. When it was the young man's turn to pass her, he stopped suddenly to release a hiss. A hand reached for his shoulder as he slowed, and his girlfriend returned to him quickly. Out of concern, Kuroko too approached him.

"Baby, what's wrong?" asked the woman.

"I don't know, babe, I just..." He lifted his hand to reveal a dart, which had gone straight through his upper arm. After the woman gasped, his breath grew heavy. "Man... I don't feel so good all of a sudden..." He began to collapse. Luckily, his lover and another concerned neighbor caught him before he could plummet to the ground.

"What's wrong with him?" screeched the girlfriend.

"I don't know, ma'am... Is... Is this a tranquilizer dart?"

Kuroko whitened after hearing the exchange, and her head whipped to the direction from which the dart hailed. Emerging from behind a bus stop was Misaka, goggles drawn over her eyes. Clutched in her hands was what Kuroko could only assume was a military grade sniper rifle. The moment their eyes met, Kuroko fled once more, balancing on the edge of panicking.

In the wake of the girl's disappearance, Misaka quickly began to return her weapon to her book bag.

"'Unfortunately, in spite of my optimal range and location, I have failed. A civilian interrupted my shot at the perpetrator,' MISAKA-12844 utters, less embarrassed than MISAKA-15673 because her failure had nothing to do with her lack of skill."

 _"'Was that intended to be an insult?' inquires MISAKA-15673 in attempt to start a conflict between she and MISAKA-12844 so that she will win and thus repair her ego."_

 _"'Stop arguing!' MISAKA MISAKA growls angrily, baffled that MISAKA MISAKA's sisters would choose a time like this to fight each other! 'MISAKA-14458's harasser is getting away, and MISAKA MISAKA will be very upset if that happens!' adds MISAKA MISAKA, beginning to sound like a spoiled child!"_

"'Very well,' MISAKA-12844 quickly complies to show that she is more mature than MISAKA-15673."

 _"'We will settle this once the perpetrator is captured,' agrees MISAKA-15673, trying to bide her increasing anger."_

Kuroko reappeared elsewhere: a random room in a random building. She had reached a point in which she no longer cared if she trespassed any forbidden territory, for the imminent fear of being discovered by her mysterious pursuers drove her to unlawful acts.

Additional investigation led Kuroko to believe she found herself in the midst of an office building. What sort of office it was happened to be irrelevant to her. So long as it offered a sufficient place to hide herself, she was more than willing to acquaint herself with it.

She prowled through her new friend, hoping to familiarize herself with it more. Dozens of computers were scattered across the room. The lights were turned off, but the size of the room's windows allowed her to see plenty. A water jug rested on the side of the wall. To give herself competent ammunition, she took the time to dash her fingers across every object she could, including those computers and the jug. She would never know when she would need them...

It would be far sooner than she thought.

From the hall rolled a visitor, the umpteenth Misaka, whose weapon was clutched tightly in her hands. After landing on her feet, she crouched, aimed, and promptly began to fire furious amounts of rounds. Kuroko noticed her presence just in time to teleport out of the way of the barrage, and she reappeared right above her attacker. A drop kick would not be delivered to Misaka, for she launched herself out of the way. After Kuroko landed on her feet, which did not collide with a skull like she intended, Misaka took her aim once more.

She had the advantage, to Kuroko's dismay. After yanking on the trigger of her weapon, several darts more launched toward her target. Kuroko could not teleport herself out of the way quick enough, but the darts still did not hit her. Instead, they pelted several computer monitors, which appeared in the air to shield their summoner. When gravity played its part and sent those monitors to the floor, a new wave of obstructions appeared. A water jug was the final stand against Misaka's attack. The more darts the jug took, the more water spewed out of its wounds, and it soon burst. Soaking wet, Misaka heaved in the wake of the confrontation, and when the commotion died down, she found that Kuroko had used it to escape.

Misaka grit her teeth and relieved the goggles from her eyes.

"'The perpetrator has begun to retaliate,' notes MISAKA-17492, wringing out her wet uniform."

 _"'Did you get her? Did you get her?' MISAKA MISAKA inquires, unable to stomach the suspense."_

"'No. She is skilled in both defense and offense,' MISAKA-17492 answers, beginning to worry the perpetrator may be too difficult to catch. 'I would advise ambushing her in groups, or, if we can coordinate quickly enough, attack her all at once. It is less likely that she will have the coordination to focus on multiple opponents,' strategizes MISAKA-17492, hoping the rest of the network will contribute ideas."

 _"'Your observations will prove beneficial to our bottom line. We will begin working on countermeasures,' replies MISAKA-12666, confident the perpetrator will soon run out of options and be forced to surrender."_

 _"'I have a report,' interrupts MISAKA-19664 with an urgent tone. 'I have caught sight of the perpetrator. She is making her way to the old textile factory on the ninth block,' reports MISAKA-19664 while inspecting the building from afar."_

 _"'Do not move in yet, MISAKA-19664,' commands MISAKA-12666 harshly to make sure MISAKA-19664 does not accidentally ruin a prime opportunity by confronting the perpetrator alone. 'All hands, report to MISAKA-19664's location as soon as possible. We will overwhelm the perpetrator with numbers,' finishes MISAKA-12666 while beginning to sprint to the nearest bus stop."_

Was it a coincidence that Kuroko happened to have a sinking feeling as the phonies enacted their plan? Not really.

She threw herself against a wall once breaching the largest, and nearest, building she could find, a hand on her pounding heart.

 _"All of this trouble for lifting a girl's skirt up. Ridiculous. Saten must be a criminal mastermind..."_ she thought nervously to herself. When she noticed how her hands quivered, she set them in her lap, where they clutched one another. _"Just calm down for now, Kuroko..."_

She found that to be a chore, since she was only being chased by a large, apparently meticulous, cult of angered Misaka look-alikes. Or did Misaka just have a bunch of doppelgängers? If Kuroko made it back to Tokiwadai alive, she vowed to make it her life's work to keep Misaka away from those fiends, or else it would surely spell misfortune. She would do whatever it took, even if it got her hands dirty.

Speaking of dirty...

When Kuroko lifted her hands, which were on the floor before they migrated to her lap, she found them to be filthy. She scowled at the sight before wiping the grime on her skirt. When she brought herself up to her feet, she dusted the back of her clothing. Afterward, she cautiously prowled over to the hallway's window, out of which she peeked. She found a sight that did not please her the slightest bit.

Misakas littered the outdoors. At least twenty patrolled the streets, and above them, on rooftops, patrolled many more. With each passing minute, they seemed to multiply, for their resolve grew with new additions. Each of them was armed with at least one type of gun, and, judging by the way they handled those guns, they were certainly familiar with them. After blinking, Kuroko's mouth gaped with bewilderment.

 _"What the hell's going on?"_

She was not so hasty to teleport out of the situation. Not until she knew the facts. As far as she knew, Misakas surrounded just one side of the building. What were the chances of more covering the other three sides? If they had the building completely surrounded with staggering numbers, it was likely that Kuroko's teleportation lag would be just enough time for one of them to get a shot in. Just one would do the trick.

She was momentarily distracted by a curious sight: a man, who minded his own business, turned around a corner, where he was met with the sight of hundreds of Misakas, all with their eyes fixed on Kuroko's hiding place. The sight of many identical girls armed with guns (understandably) spooked the man, but he continued down the sidewalk cautiously. Kuroko's followers did not pay the man any mind as he weaved past them.

 _"Yep. They're after me. No doubts about that..."_ Kuroko sneered as she turned down the hall with the intention to investigate the state of other flanks.

But then, a door opened, ramming her right in the face. Tears gathered in Kuroko's eyes as a result of being smacked square in the nose, and as she stumbled back, a squadron of Misakas spilled through the doorway. Kuroko knew she was in real trouble then. If she teleported to the outside, she would surely get shot when hundreds of guns were aimed at her, so there was no escape. Well, there seemed to be no escape anyway, since she couldn't teleport thanks to being struck in the nose (which was quite painful). Unable to focus long enough to flee, Kuroko resorted to pitifully withdrawing as her pursuers grew closer.

Their eyes, which were likely as lifeless as the other's, could not be seen, for they were covered by ominous, glowing goggles. The frowns on their faces disapproved of her, even though they had never met. At least it seemed as though they'd never met. That certainly wasn't the case when they spoke.

"'Miss Kuroko Shirai, it is time you stopped trying to escape,' mutters MISAKA grimly as she closes in on the perpetrator," muttered Misaka grimly as she closed in on the perpetrator.

"'The entire building is surrounded, so you will not be able to escape, even with your spacial movement-type esper abilities,' adds MISAKA, wondering what sort of punishment is in store for the perpetrator," added Misaka, wondering what sort of punishment was in store for the perpetrator.

It was so uncanny it sent chills down Kuroko's spine: these girls, all four of them, looked _exactly_ like her true love, whose body she knew better than anyone else. Their height, in addition to being identical to each other's, was identical to Misaka's. Their lips settled at the ideal balance between plump and slim. The width of their frames, which were slightly petite, were eerily similar. Their hair, just like Misaka's, was shoulder length and the perfect autumn's auburn.

"What is this sorcery?" Kuroko couldn't help but ask. "N-No, it's got to be some sort of esper ability. Illusions, maybe? Is there an esper somewhere making me see things that aren't really there? Th-There's... n-no way all of you can look just like her! Hip girth, foot size, hair color... bust si-"

Before she could finish, one of the Misakas fired a dart into her. It struck Kuroko precisely in the shoulder, causing her to wince. Kuroko rambled for only a moment before collapsing like the boyfriend on the street, except she had no one to break her fall. In the wake of the scene, the four Misakas stared at their game before they worked up a smirk.

"'The perpetrator has been successfully sedated,' announces MISAKA-15498 to the rest of the network with pride."

"'The job could not have been done without your contributions,' comments MISAKA-14000 to praise the rest of her sisters while making her way to the perpetrator."

"'MISAKA MISAKA wants to see!' shouts MISAKA MISAKA as MISAKA MISAKA bursts through the door the main squadron used." As promised, a small girl, a child Misaka, rushed down the filthy hall, an oversized lab coat flowing after her. She shoved her way through the legs of her fellow, but taller, Misakas before laying eyes on their enemy, who lay motionless on the floor. The second the young Misaka looked at her, she worked herself up into a frenzy and delivered a light (but powerful in her opinion) blow to the girl's back. "'Take that! Take that!' MISAKA MISAKA taunts to the perpetrator after giving her an explosive kick! 'That's what you get, you pervert! That's what you get!' proclaims MISAKA MISAKA, making extra sure the perpetrator gets what she deserves."

One of the Misakas halted the youngling by subtly patting her shoulder, shaking her head in the meantime.

"'Unfortunately, the perpetrator cannot hear you because she has been knocked unconscious,' informs MISAKA.

"'W-What? Then how're we going to punish her? MISAKA MISAKA wants to see the girl punished! MISAKA MISAKA demands for it!' whines MISAKA MISAKA, fearing justice will not be delivered."

Another Misaka in the hall spoke up.

"'Once she reawakens, we could subject her to Chinese waterboarding,' suggests MISAKA, recalling a television program that discussed medieval torture techniques."

"'Or just regular water torture,' inputs MISAKA, also participating in the conversation."

 _"'An iron maiden can easily be constructed,' adds MISAKA-17748."_

 _"'Scaphism is possible given the many waterways that run through the countryside,' states MISAKA-17498."_

 _"'There is one request I have left,' MISAKA-14458 speaks up after completing a transaction with a customer, glad to hear the results of the outing."_

"'What is that request, MISAKA-14458?' inquires MISAKA-15498, knowing that MISAKA-14458 deserves to decide what ultimately happens to the perpetrator."

 _"'The perpetrator, before harassing me, proclaimed to be the property of Big Sister. If that is so, the best place to take a misbehaving slave is to its master,' states MISAKA-14458, her statement meant to be a suggestion."_

"'The idea is superb. We will look into finding Big Sister and make the delivery,' confirms MISAKA-15498."

With not a word more, took the unconscious Kuroko in their arms, bound to carry her through the darkest pits of the city...

* * *

It was past curfew, and Kuroko had yet to return home.

Misaka passed her sickly time by focusing on makeup work, which was delivered by a charitable classmate. Unfortunately, she had to put up with her illness without any sort of luxurious relief, such as medicine. Kuroko was _supposed_ to have gotten that medication... But Misaka was worried about a few more important things. The images of men dressed completely in black danced across her mind, and she feared they might be the cause of Kuroko's tardiness. If that were so, Misaka was in no shape to depart from the dorm and search for her. The time would most certainly be grave.

For the sake of a sound mind, she supposed Kuroko was late because something got her busy, such as being called in by Konori because of an emergency. Her attempts to alleviate her worries crashed and burned, for she realized that Kuroko would have at least called if such a thing came up. Not to mention this was Kuroko she was thinking about... She would have certainly stopped by to administer a dose of ibuprofen to her sickly love, no matter the consequences.

So much for not being worried.

"When that girl gets back, I'm going to give her a piece of my mind..." Misaka growled atop her bed, a damp washcloth sprawled across her forehead. Well, she wasn't lying. When a knock sounded on the door, her face scrunched, and she begrudgingly brought herself onto her feet. "Forget to bring your key too, Kuroko? If you'd been any later I wouldn't have bothered opening the door for you..."

She gripped the doorknob. She knew something was up when she received no response, since Kuroko was always quick to explain herself to prevent any potential wrath. If it wasn't Kuroko, then who was it? Who would visit her past curfew? She couldn't bare with the curiosity for long, so she threw the door open quickly.

It came as a surprise (perhaps even to her dismay) to find four carbon copies of herself, all standing in the hallway. They did not feel threatened, so testified the fact that their goggles were not drawn over their eyes, but those eyes looked particularly grim... Well, grim enough for a pair of eyes that could not display terribly much emotion. More concerning, however, was the limp Kuroko in the leader's hand. She held her by the collar of her shirt, and Kuroko... she just kind of dangled there without any qualms, swaying to the slightest whim of the copy's movements. A small stream of drool spilled out of her mouth on rare occasions.

After Misaka took the picture in completely, her eyes immediately darted to her visitors, to whom she scowled slightly.

"'Good evening, Big Sister,' greets MISAKA after her Big Sister opened the door to her living quarters," greeted Misaka after her Big Sister opened the door to her living quarters.

"Oh. It's you kids. What're you doing at my school? And the better question..."

Before they answered, the visitors barged in the room rashly, asking not for any sort of permission. They did not apologize for intruding, even after Misaka scolded them for their insensitivity. Misaka did not want to stir up a scene, however, for it would certainly lead to a lot of questions if the dorm matron happened to be prowling the halls. Behind her visitors, Misaka slammed the door shut.

As Misaka turned around, she watched her doppelgänger toss Kuroko onto the floor. Like a rag doll, Kuroko landed, sprawling across the rug without a care in the world. The sight disturbed the watcher mildly, which was why she turned to the copies once again.

"What did you do to her?" she asked forcefully, implying she would no longer accept empty responses.

"'We have come to return your slave,' replies MISAKA, hoping her Big Sister will provide proper punishment," replied Misaka, hoping her Big Sister would provide proper punishment.

"What? She's not my slave. What'd she do?" argued Misaka, still puzzled.

"'The perpetrator proclaimed herself to be your property. Therefore, as her master, you are obligated to discipline her for her inappropriate acts,' responds MISAKA, prepared to explain the situation to her oblivious Big Sister," responded Misaka, prepared to explain the situation to her oblivious Big Sister.

"Perpetrator? What does this-"

"'Your slave went to fetch you some medicine at Tomihiko's Drug Store on the fiftieth block, where MISAKA-14458 works,' MISAKA further explains, pausing to allow MISAKA-14000 to present MISAKA-14458's gift."

Another look-alike lifted a quaint, plastic bag, which she handed to Misaka.

"'MISAKA-14458 sends you her regards,' relays MISAKA while offering MISAKA-14458's gift."

Misaka gently accepted the gift, into which she peered curiously. Inside sat a fresh, unopened bottle of fever reducer. Surprisingly, Misaka recognized the medicine's brand to be particularly expensive in comparison to its competitors. Her brows dropped as she lifted her head.

"Um... Thanks..." Her attention darted to Kuroko, who mewled from the floor.

"'The perpetrator is awakening,' observes MISAKA, eager to see what her Big Sister will do." observed Misaka, eager to see what her Big Sister would do.

"You keep saying I'm going to do something to her. Why don't you tell me why I should?" Misaka grumbled, patience slimming. In the meantime, Kuroko sluggishly rolled onto her back, where her eyes slowly opened. It was made evident by her puzzled expression that she could not register much.

"'While being assisted by MISAKA-14458 in the drug store, your slave intentionally exposed and observed MISAKA-14458's panties, which is a direct violation of Title Seven of the JAUW's Civil Rights bill. It is vital that you, as her master, punish her,' elaborates MISAKA," elaborated Misaka.

Kuroko may have not been able to register much before then, but the moment the phony finished speaking, Kuroko was wide awake. She scrambled to her knees despite the fact that most of her body was numb, and she subjected herself before Misaka, her goddess.

"S-S-Sissy, I-I can explain," her quivering voice proclaimed.

Misaka did not seem to be interested in listening.

"Can you, now..." she murmured. A spark erupted above her head. She may have been ill with a fever, but she could most certainly salvage the strength to teach her a lesson. Having a good sense of intuition, all four of Misaka's visitors took a step back. A smirk appeared on each of their faces.

"Yes, S-Sissy. There was an imposter in that drug store! I-I wasn't g-going to stand there and let her insult you like that!"

"Oh, I'm _sure_ that was the case, Kuroko," Misaka concurred with a fake tone. "I'm _very_ sure that was the case... or did you just see someone that looked exactly like me and took advantage of her?" She lowered herself by kneeling before her cowering friend, where her tone deepened. "I know you're not exactly above harassing girls."

"N-Never. I'd never do something like that to anyone that wasn't you, Sissy!"

"I don't believe you. Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes, Sissy, but please-"

"Do you understand what I must do now?"

Kuroko fought for a lost cause. With hope fading from her eyes, she nodded in defeat, and she buried her face into her only friend: the rug. Her neck hairs raised when a wave of static hit her unsuspecting skin. Chills traveled down her spine, leaving heinous goosebumps in their wake. She braced herself the best she could.

"Y-Y-Yes..."

With a crackle and a scream, from the window shined the brightest light the night had ever seen.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Whew. Writing the Sisters is tedious as hell. Good thing they're entertaining, though. Their speech pattern is unique and fun. Thanks to everyone who's read, commented, followed, and supported this project. I'm quite proud of the way it turned out.**

 **Will there be a sequel to Threshold Fever? Likely. When will it happen? I'm not sure. I have a few other projects on my queue, and I'd like to get those out of the way first. Until then, I will hopefully see you all soon. Have a wonderful day.**


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